


time has brought your heart to me

by SailorChibi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Comic Book Science, Cuddling, De-Aged Tony Stark, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Get Together, Handwavy Magic, Handwavy Science, Hugs, I'm not sure where this fic is going, M/M, Magic sucks, Not Steve Friendly, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker is an Avenger, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Rating May Change, Short tony, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Virgin Peter Parker, Virgin Tony Stark, comic book magic, de-age, hand holding, handwavy politics, no homecoming spoilers, not team Cap friendly, protect tony stark, protective may parker, rhodey adopts tony, sixteen year old tony stark, so tags will be added as we go, tags will change, teenaged Tony Stark, tiny tony, tony stark does not like magic, tony stark gets a second chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-10-12 09:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10487691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: It's taking Tony everything he has to hold himself together on a regular day, and now - just to make his already shitty life that much worse - he's been de-aged to sixteen years old. Fortunately, when Tony is on the brink of breaking apart completely, Peter is there to help him pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been at the back of my brain for a long time that I wanted to do a Tony/Peter fic, and tonight my brain was like 'it's gonna happen'. IDEK anymore. But if I'm going down, I'm dragging y'all with me.
> 
> This fic is most likely not going to be particularly team cap friendly. Proceed with caution, 'cause I don't wanna hear it.

"What do you _mean_ it's _permanent_?!"

"Mr. Stark. Tony. Please." Strange lifts his hands in a placating matter. "I meant what I said. All the tests I've performed say that there is nothing wrong with you. No curses, no spells, no magic whatsoever. I don't have anything to work with. As far as your body is concerned, this is the way you're meant to be. Fixing it would involve a spell that ages you, and I really can't express to you how dangerous that kind of magic is. You could end up so old that your body is nothing more than skeletal remains. Frankly, I'm amazed that you were so fortunate in the first place."

"Fortunate?!" Tony shrieks, finally losing his temper. "You call this _fortunate_?!"

"You're still alive so yes, I do. From what you've described, the spell was not cast correctly and, as a result, may not have had the intended effect. I'm guessing that the original effects were intended to be much more serious than this. Sadly, the caster is dead so we can't ask." Strange frowns a little. "If the spell didn't reverse upon their death or when the book was destroyed in the fight, then please believe me when I tell you that there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do."

Tony is so incensed and panicked that all he can do is stand there and wheeze. Pepper steps in, asking, "You can't... I don't know, create an illusion that makes him look his normal age?"

"I can, but such spells require a lot of effort to keep up long-term. Also, frequent use tends to have unpleasant consequences. I heard about a fellow that used a glamour every day for six months because he was trying to get a date with a woman he was in love with. When he finally removed the glamour, his nose had developed gangrene and had to be removed."

Pepper blanches, her hand flying up to cover her own nose. "That's horrible!"

Strange nods. "Indeed. So you can see why it's not a viable solution. I've also heard of magical artifacts that can create a glamour, but they tend to have similarly nasty effects. When it comes to magic, nothing is without a price, as your caster learned." He glances at Tony. "The good news is, since I can't find any other magical residue on you, there should be no other effects."

"I think that _this_ is quite enough," Tony hisses, gesturing at himself. His hands are trembling, he notices belatedly. He tightens them into fists and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. Better to look cocky and arrogant than have people realize that he was upset or afraid. He learned that lesson a very long time ago.

"Some people would be jealous, actually," Strange says. "You've found the fountain of youth, such as it was. A pity that caster is dead. I should liked to have asked him a few questions."

"Go fuck yourself," Tony says.

"Tony!" Pepper exclaims.

Tony ignores her, storming out of the room and down the hallway. Knowing that he'll be followed, he heads into the bathroom and slams the door with an unsatisfying thud, flicking the lock. That turns out to be a dumb move, though. He can't avoid the mirror when he turns around, even though he tries. His eyes are automatically drawn to the young - too young! - man, a teenager really, standing there. This kid is short, barely scraping by 5'2 if that, and kind of scrawny. He's got brown hair that badly needs to be cut and not a hint of facial hair. It's wrong. All wrong. 

"This is all your fucking fault," Tony says to his reflection, grimacing at the sound of his voice. Rhodey tells him that it doesn't sound any different, but Tony begs to differ. It's definitely a little higher than it should be. Repeated attempts to lower it have just resulted in Pepper biting her lip to keep from laughing in his face. 

"Tones? Are you okay?" Rhodey knocks on the door. 

"Go away."

"I'm not going anywhere, dork. Let me in."

It's tempting to keep the door locked, but Tony knows better. He's tried that. Rhodey just went and got Vision. There's nothing more annoying than having the android that you had a hand in creating float up through the floor when you just want to be alone. Vision hadn't listened to him, either. He'd unlocked the door for Rhodey and then Tony was treated to a lecture about why you shouldn't push your friends away when you really need them. Tony pretends the lecture fell on deaf ears, but honestly he's just so damn grateful that Rhodey hasn't thrown his hands up in defeat yet.

So he unlocks the door and looks up into Rhodey's eyes. It's not unusual per se - Tony got used to looking up at pretty much everyone in his life a long time ago - but it's a longer distance than usual and it's just one more thing that's different. He has to swallow hard to keep the wobble out of his voice when he says, "So that's that. Science can't fix me. Magic can't fix me. Ready to donate me to the nearest zoo now?"

"It's not that big of a deal," Rhodey tries.

"Rhodey. I'm sixteen years old. That's a big fucking deal." Just saying the words makes Tony shudder. "Everyone is going to have a fucking field day. You thought I had a hard time making people listen to me before? What do you think Ross is gonna do the next time we meet to discuss the Accords? What do you think the media is going to say? What do you think Steve -" His throat closes up, a familiar cold panic crawling into his chest. Steve is so much bigger than he is now, and Tony doesn't even have a suit that will fit him anymore. 

"Whoa, hey." Rhodey drags him into a hug, wrapping his arms securely around Tony and embracing him so tightly it hurts. It's exactly what Tony needs. He holds back the tears with everything that he is and hugs his best friend back. 

A small hand lands on his upper shoulders, and he smells Pepper's perfume a second before she says, "It's going to be okay, Tony. You're not alone. Rhodey and I have been talking. We think we've worked things out."

Tony drags in a too-shuddery breath. "And?"

"I'm still the CEO of Stark Industries. I can take care of everything until you're of age," Pepper says. Her voice is soft, but wonderfully firm. "You can still produce tech and ideas just like you always do, but you can take a backseat in everything else. Let's face it, you've always wanted to do that." She squeezes his shoulder, all but hugging him from behind. "Rhodey will become your legal guardian. Everything will be under his control: your fortune, your suits, your patents, your shares in the company. He'll take care of them until you turn eighteen, at which point everything will relegate to your control. It's only for a couple of years. We can get through until then."

"They won't let you," Tony points out. "Rhodey's just on leave. They won't let someone in the military adopt me." His knees buckle a little at the realization that he needs a guardian of some kind again, but Rhodey and Pepper just hold onto him that much tighter. At least this time he has them. He doesn't have to deal with Stane telling him that he needs to stop being weak and start standing on his own two feet.

"Shows what you know. I'm getting an honorable discharge."

Tony's head snaps up. "What? Rhodey, you can't -"

"Save it," Rhodey interrupts, mouth twisted in a sad smile. "It's not just because of you. I'm never going to be well enough to go back to work for the military. You know that. The doctors know that. The prosthetics you created are amazing, but if I was on a mission and they were damaged..." He trails off meaningfully. "It's just too much of a risk on their end. I've known that the papers were coming for a while now, but I wasn't ready to accept it."

"Rhodey... I'm so-"

"Don't. Don't apologize. It's not your fault," Rhodey tells him. "It's just my time. It could be worse. I'll be getting a full pension and I might even have the chance to do consulting work on occasion." He ruffles Tony's hair. "I wasn't sure what I was going to do with my life, but as always you're three steps ahead of the rest of us."

"It will be okay," Pepper says. "It's not ideal, but we can make it work."

"The media -"

"I'll deal with them." Her voice drops a little, taking on a dangerous tone. "You're underage now. We'll have a lot more control over what they can and can't say for a little while, at least."

"And Ross?" Tony hates to keep bringing the man up. His stomach curls to think about what Ross will do. It's been a constant game of cat and mouse over the past eight months, with Ross pouncing on any hint of a perceived weakness. He'll eat this up with a spoon. The thought of Ross trying to get control over him, or god forbid the Iron Man armor, is terrifying. 

"T'Challa and the rest of the team you've assembled can handle him. They'll still have the full support of Stark Industries. And Tony, you're not out of the game completely. You can still help."

"Yeah right." Tony struggles out of the hug, suddenly feeling suffocated. He looks down at his hands. They're smooth, un-blemished. He earned every burn, every scar, every callous. And all of that has been wiped away in the span of a six hour fight with some kleptomaniac using magic they don't know how to use. He fists his hands again, holding them to his chest. He doesn't have to look to know that those scars are gone too. It's like the arc reactor, like Afghanistan, like _Yinsen_ , never happened.

"Tony," Pepper says, but that's all, like she doesn't know what else to say.

"It's the best option we have," he says without looking at them. "I guess we don't have a choice. I've pursued every other viable option over the past two weeks. No one has a cure." He's asked all of the best scientific minds in the world, even throwing himself on the mercy of Reed Richards. No one had an answer. Strange was a last resort. Unless Thor decides to return to Earth, he's stuck like this - and even then, he knows better than to pin all his hopes on Thor having some kind of miracle cure. 

"It'll be okay," Rhodey repeats.

"Yeah, sure it will," Tony mutters. Neither of them have mentioned Steve or the other ex-Avengers. It's like the giant elephant in the room. He can't decide which would be worse: Steve being smug because Tony got himself into this mess, or Steve acting like Tony no longer mattered because of this mess. Knowing Steve, it will probably be a mixture of both. Tony's just that lucky.

There's a long pause behind him. Finally, Pepper sighs. "Did you want me to start getting the paperwork ready?"

"Might as well."

He waits, standing still, until he hears them both leave the room. Strange seemed surprised that Tony still possessed all of his memories. He seemed to think that Tony shouldn't remember anything beyond what he would've known at sixteen the first time around. That's the one way that this situation could have been worse. The original sixteen-year-old Tony Stark was a recently orphaned idiot who wouldn't have known what politics was if it punched him in the eye. That Tony Stark was still half in love with Captain America. That Tony Stark had no idea how to pilot the Iron Man suits, or even knew that he had the potential to be a hero.

Well. To try to be a hero, anyway. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to even try now that he has this to deal with on top of everything else, but he'll be damned if he's giving up that easily. He heads for the elevator, deciding that he might as well start trying to modify a suit to fit his smaller build while he's waiting for Pepper and Rhodey to pull everything together. As the elevator descends, he grimly thinks to himself that the one silver lining to this whole mess is that at least now he doesn't have to worry about his body being too old for this shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I am so excited by the response to this fic! I half-expected to get nothing at all, or (worse) a bunch of comments about how horrible I am for writing a Peter/Tony fic. I can only hope it lives up to your expectations.

As an adult, Tony hated press conferences. As a teenager, he realizes that he hates them even more. He sits behind the long, low table, Pepper on one side and Rhodey on the other, and tries his best not to glower at the crowd of reporters. The reaction when Tony walked into the room was just short of vicious, with many dramatic gasps, loudly muttered comments and tons of snapped pictures. It’s to be expected, since this is his first public appearance since the change and the media has been gagging to find out, but that makes it no less annoying.

Pepper takes the lead because she’s wonderful like that, giving a carefully worded statement that basically categorizes the change as an irreversible accident, the kind that sometimes happens when you’re an Avenger. Rhodey fidgets just a little when she says that, and Tony’s heart sinks straight into his stomach. He’s sixteen years old and Rhodey is largely paralyzed below the waist. Those two things are not even close to being the same and he’s not sure how he came out ahead when Rhodey’s always been the better person.

Then she opens the floor for questions.

“What does this mean for the future of the company?”

“Does this mean you and Mr. Stark are over?”

“What about school? Will you be attending?”

School? Tony frowns, affronted. He’s not going to school. What a waste of time. The first time he was sixteen, he was already in university. Maria wanted him to attend high school with his peers, but at Howard’s insistence Tony jumped straight from junior high to MIT. It turned out to be for the best since that’s where Tony met Rhodey, but there’s nothing a high school teacher could teach him then and definitely nothing they could teach him now.

He does not look at Pepper when she answers the question about their relationship. It’s an easy excuse at least, even if he and Pepper have been over for months now. Tony saw the writing on the wall long before the so-called ‘civil war’ happened, as the media have termed it. Pepper was kind enough not to bring it up for a little while after, but it was obvious. She’s too good for him, and in all fairness it would be a little creepy now that he’s sixteen.

“I will remain as CEO to the company,” Pepper says into the microphone. “Mr. Stark will take a step back until he reaches the age of eighteen or until he decides otherwise. Of course, he will continue to provide both technology and updates to the company, as per usual. No one need worry about the newest tablet; releases will continue as planned.” She smiles to hide the strain.

“How can we trust that Mr. Stark isn’t mentally sixteen as well?” a reporter from the Bugle asks. “Are you trying to pass a kid off as Tony Stark? I mean really. Look at him. He can’t possibly continue being Iron Man.”

Tony bristles. “I _am_ Iron Man,” he says, more snappishly than he intended. “I will always be Iron Man, no matter how I look on the outside. The world needs superheroes more than ever. I am not prepared to step down just because of a minor setback.”

“But you are just a kid,” the reporter points out. “Doesn’t it make more sense for you to step aside and pave the way for Captain America’s return?”

A Cap supporter. Tony should’ve guessed. Rhodey and Pepper both tense. Tony keeps his voice cool. “The return of Captain America and the other ex-Avengers is not solely my decision. They broke the law. It’s for the governments of the world to decide their fate. Unfortunately, I’m not all powerful no matter how much people seem to think I am.”

That comment brings scattered laughter amongst the crowd. The reporter scowls. “That doesn’t negate the fact that you’re still a child now.”

“Physically. I am _physically_ a child. I still remember everything about my life. For example, I remember that you can’t hold your alcohol,” he says, smile frozen on his face. More tittering. The reporter flushes bright red, no doubt remembering, as they all do, the party where she got drunk and dumped a glass of wine on the president’s daughter, thus ending up as the subject of many photographs. 

“Have you been in contact with Captain America?” another reporter asks.

“Considering that he’s a wanted fugitive and I try hard to stay on this side of the law, no, I haven’t,” Tony says. He deliberately doesn’t think about that stupid old phone, which is hidden in a drawer in the workshop. He hasn’t used it yet, and he doesn’t plan to. Because fuck you Steve, thinking that Tony would _ever_ go begging for his help.

“But surely he’ll be pardoned. I mean, it’s Captain America.”

“That is not for Mr. Stark to say,” Pepper says, and thank god for her, because Tony’s lungs are too tight for him to get the breath to speak. All those eyes are staring at him – some pitying, some jealous, some contemptuous, all judging – so he has to hold it together.

He tries not to think about the team getting pardoned. He knows where they are, but he hasn’t seen or talked to anyone since Natasha left. Frankly, he doesn’t want to. As much as he misses what the team used to be (what he wanted them to be), the thought of hearing Steve’s voice again is not a pleasant one. He has too many nightmares about that voice speaking to him while the shield comes down towards his head.

But he can’t help wondering, now that the reporters have mentioned it, if Steve is watching. Maybe they’re all watching to see the aftereffects of Tony Stark’s latest fuck-up. Do they pity him? Or, more likely, they all feel like he’s gotten a taste of what he deserves. Because maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all if the Avengers were still a team, if it hadn’t been just him and Vision trying to handle the kleptomaniac all on their own.

Maybe Steve is sitting there, in all of his smug superiority, thinking that Tony should’ve asked for help after all.

Either he unknowingly makes some sort of signal or Pepper is just that good and knows when he's overwhelmed. She ends the press conference shortly thereafter, with another short-but-sweet statement about James Rhodes stepping up as Tony’s guardian. The room explodes at that; Pepper stays behind to answer a handful of questions, but Rhodey gets to his feet and – with a hand to Tony’s upper arm – helps him up too. They walk off stage with dozen of lights flashing and too many voices yelling Tony’s name.

“You okay?” Rhodey asks quietly as they make it backstage. His hand is firm on Tony’s shoulder and he’s glaring at the people around them, just daring anyone to come too close before Tony’s ready. Mercifully, they all show a shade of intelligence and keep their distance.

“I’m fine,” Tony says. He has to force the words out through gritted teeth, and he’s positive that Rhodey can feel the way he’s shaking and knows that he’s not being entirely truthful. But he can’t fall apart here. There’s too many people around, and he doubts all of them have signed non-disclosure agreements. The last thing they need is a story about Tony Stark having a panic attack just because Captain America was mentioned hitting the papers. It's bad enough his reaction was caught on camera.

Naturally, Rhodey doesn’t look convinced. “You should sit until Pepper’s done. I’ll get you some water.”

“Actually, can we just go? Happy can wait to pick Pepper up, I just – “

“Sure. Sure, Tones. Come on.” Rhodey leads him through the crowd. Tony focuses his attention on his feet and tries to remember how to breathe. Getting outside helps, even though they emerge into another crowd of reporters who didn’t make the cut for the press conference. Rhodey sets his jaw and muscles their way through, bundling Tony into the back of the car.

As the car pulls away from the curb, Tony’s phone rings. He fumbles it out of his pocket with numb hands, half-expecting to see Steve’s number. But of course, it’s not. It’s Laura. He puts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Tony?” Laura’s voice is always filled with worry when she talks to him. Not that he can blame her. They don’t typically have the most calming of conversations. The first talk the two of them had ever had on the phone was about how Clint had broken out of jail and gone on the run, so that didn’t exactly set the tone for a positive bunch of conversations.

She was angry and upset for the longest time, not that Tony blames her. And he was happy to bear the brunt of that anger since Clint and Steve were out of reach. Even now she's still angry, but he can see the way she's coming to terms with the situation. Starting the divorce proceedings seems to have helped, though that makes it no less easy to deal with the children. Tony's heart cracked in half the first time that Lila tearfully asked him when her daddy was coming home, so he has no idea how Laura does it on a daily basis.

"Hey, Laura. How're the kids doing?" Tony says. Right away, he wants to cringe. His voice sounds way too fake-happy, and Laura's annoyingly perceptive.

Sure enough, she says, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I was watching the press release. I know you're not fine."

He can't drum up an answer to that no matter how hard he tries. The words stick in his throat. Beside him, Rhodey turns his head and looks at Tony with dark, compassionate eyes. Tony has to look away. The burn of tears builds behind his eyes, and he has to blink them back. He hasn't cried in years and he's not about to start now, when he needs to be presenting a strong front.

"I thought that I might come for a visit if you were up for that," Laura continues. "The kids have Spring break off and they're going up to my sister's, so they won't be coming. It would just be me. What do you think?"

Tony thinks that he's really sick of people feeling like they have to make allowances for him. He says, "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't. Believe me, it's entirely selfish on my part. I don't want to spend two weeks rattling around this old place all by myself, and Cooper's made it very clear that having Mom along on what's supposed to be a fun trip makes the trip a heck of a lot less fun. Plus, I haven't been to New York in years. You'd be doing me a favor if you let me mooch off you for a while." She's smiling, Tony can tell. He kind of hates that she already knows how to play him, except that really he just loves her for it.

"You don't mooch," he says, meaning it. He's never minded giving Laura money. She struggles a lot with three children and a farm to look after by herself; Clint's accounts were frozen for a long time after he broke out of jail, and, although Tony has since worked to get them un-frozen, there's still not much new income coming in.

"Yes I do. You're just too sweet to admit it," she says. "Is that a yes I hear?"

"It's always a yes."

"Great. The kids leave tomorrow morning. I plan to drive up after. Would you like me to stop and pick up some of those doughnuts you like so much along the way?"

The lump in his throat gets bigger, because she _remembers_. She remembers the time that Tony dropped in on them unexpectedly, only to find that Nate had colic and Laura was at the end of her rope. Tony bundled the whole family into the car and they just drove. For miles. Until the kids had passed out, even Nate, and it was just him and Laura and the open road. Until they reached this ancient bakery that sold the best doughnuts Tony's ever had, and he and Laura shared a whole dozen sitting on the hood of the car while the kids slept.

"Okay. I'll bring two dozen," she says, like he answered. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Bye Tony."

"Bye." He can barely get the word out, and as soon as he hears the dial tone he drops the phone like it's burning his fingers. Rhodey reels him in for another hug with an arm around his shoulders, and Tony goes without protest. It's just easier to hide his face in Rhodey's comfortable, familiar neck.


	3. Chapter 3

Had Tony remembered that today’s the day when Peter typically drops by to see him, he would’ve canceled. But he didn’t. Instead, he’s woken up by FRIDAY’s voice at just after 11am and informed that Peter is waiting for him in the workshop. Tony mumbles some curses in response and drags himself out of the bed, fumbling around until he finds a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that’ll fit. 

Horrifyingly, none of his old clothing fits now. His jeans are too long in the legs and too wide at the hips; the first time he pulled them up, they literally fell off. He swims in his old shirts, especially around the shoulders and upper arms since he’s lost most of his definition. Even his shoes don’t fit right, heels sliding out with every step. Basically, he ends up looking like a little kid dressing up in Daddy’s clothing. Pepper had to go out and buy him some emergency clothing. He supposes he’ll need more now.

He shuffles downstairs in just socks, since he has a vague memory of kicking off his dress shoes in a fury when he and Rhodey got home from the press conference but isn’t sure where they landed, and walks into the workshop. Peter’s sitting on the couch playing high five with Dummy. Tony tries and fails to ignore the spark of warmth the sight ignites in his chest. Most people ignore the bots, or at the very least don’t pay much attention to them. Peter spoils them.

“Hey kid,” he grunts. As Peter looks up, it occurs to Tony that he’s going to have to stop calling Peter that. Because technically, Peter is a year older than he is now. What a disturbing thought.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, easy as anything. And then, displaying the kind of tact that 90% of the world has yet to master, all he says is, “I know we were doing something else, but I was hoping you could help me look at this project I’m working on. It’s for the science fair at school. Winner gets a scholarship to the university of their choice.”

Fuck, sometimes Tony loves this kid. “Sure,” he says, pathetically grateful. “What did you have in mind?”

For the next three hours, they lose themselves in science. It’s not exactly the same as working with Bruce, of course. He and Bruce were colleagues on the same level, and it was a rare moment when Tony used a phrase that Bruce didn’t understand. Bruce also wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit, or point out when something just plain didn’t make sense.

Peter’s a little more timid, less willing to call Tony out, but he’s a lot better now than he was six months ago. When Tony makes the suggestion for him to paint his robot red and gold, Peter just gives him a deadpan expression and says, “I’m trying to win, not make the judges toss me out for gaudiness.”

“Hey!” Tony squawks, offended. “My armor is not _gaudy_. It is a _work of art_.”

Peter smiles, though he ducks his head to hide it. “I must be thinking of some other flying armor.”

“Clearly, you were thinking of Iron Patriot.” Tony forces as much indignation and disgust into his voice as he can and is gratified to see Peter’s shoulders shake with laughter. “All you have to do to beat that is paint your robot red, white and blue and stencil on fifty stars.”

What’s meant to be a flippant comment comes out a little heavier than Tony intends, and when Peter straightens up all the amusement is gone from his face. Tony looks away, redirecting his attention back to the robot. He doesn’t want to think about Steve right now. Well, to be honest he never wants to think about any of them. But his brain is an asshole and so he thinks about them a lot more than he probably should. 

“Mr. Stark…” Peter says softly, uncertainly.

“It was an accident,” Tony says to the robot, fiddling with a screw. “I was so sure it was just another routine fight. Some idiot who was playing around with things they don’t understand. Happens a lot, I’m told.” He smiles bitterly. “He hit me with some kind of spell. Reversed time or some shit like that. The armor turned back into raw materials. I turned back into… this.” He waves a hand to indicate his body. 

Peter’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “It’s a good thing you don’t have the arc reactor anymore.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Tony admits, but Peter’s right. The arc reactor would’ve probably suffered the same fate. Would the shrapnel in his chest have reverted back to scrap metal? Liquids? He might’ve died. Would’ve died, if the arc reactor was gone and the shrapnel remained. Would’ve bled out internally right there on the field, and Vision – who has enough of JARVIS’s info on Tony to be awkward sometimes – would’ve been the only one to know why. He shudders inwardly at the thought.

“It can’t be reversed?” Peter asks.

Tony finally looks over at him. “No. I’ve asked… oh fuck, I’ve asked _everyone_. I even broke down and asked Dr. Strange. He said there’s nothing he can do. If we still had the book that the spell came from… but there’s video footage. There was some kind of backlash after the spell was cast. Burned the idiot alive, and the book along with him.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it. Short of Thor coming back with some miracle cure, I’m officially a teenager again.” Even just saying it out loud is depressing. Tony groans and let his head drop down against the top of the table.

“We’re not that bad,” Peter says, amused.

“No. People keep telling me there are worse fates.” Those people also think he’s being overly dramatic. It’s amazing how quickly people stop taking you seriously when your outside is thirty-some years younger than your insides. If one more person gives him a proverbial pat on the head, or tells him that they would love to be in his position, he’s going to start firing people. 

“I dunno. Sounds pretty sucky to me. I wouldn’t want to go back to being a kid or anything like that.” Peter pauses. “Well, okay. I miss being able to spend my summer vacations doing whatever I want instead of working, but that’s about it.”

Tony cracks a smile. He never had free summers, growing up with Howard, but he can appreciate the sentiment. “Anyway. It is what it is. The longer I wallow in it, the more damage I do to my reputation. And I really can’t afford that right now. That’s what the press conference yesterday was supposed to be for, though I’m not sure how much good it did.”

“I watched it. I thought you did fine.”

“Your opinion is a little biased,” Tony says, gently knocking their shoulders together. “But thanks.”

“Can I ask,” Peter starts and then stops. 

“What?”

“Why a guardian? I mean, you’re still you. Mentally, I mean.”

“Yeah, for better or worse,” Tony says under his breath. Louder, he adds, “It’s just a precautionary measure. I have a lot of enemies, Peter. I wouldn’t put it past Ross, for example, to try and seize control. Have me declared mentally unfit or incompetent or whatever, just so that he could get me under his thumb.” 

Peter grimaces. “He would be like the worst dad ever.”

Thinking of Betty, Tony nods in agreement. “You have no idea.”

“But like I said, you’re still you. It wouldn’t work.”

“I still think he’d probably try, which would cost both money and time. Knowing him, he’d drag it as far up the chain of command as he could.” Tony sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Banging his head against the table probably wasn’t a genius idea. “I don’t have the time or the money to commit to something like that. There’s too much else going on. It was just easier to have Rhodey do it. Pretty hard to push aside a war hero slash fallen Avenger.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Peter says, but grudgingly, like he thinks it’s shit and just doesn’t want to say that out loud. Tony knows the feeling. He wasn’t thrilled either.

“Anyway, in the long run it won’t really make much difference. Just means I don’t have to concentrate so hard on succession planning, I guess.” Not that Tony was really focused on that before. 

“Since you’re a teenager and all,” Peter says with a nod. He smirks. “So does this mean I get to be an Avenger now that we’re the same age?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Tony points at him. “Actual teenager with schoolwork, family, and other responsibilities.” He points to himself. “Actual adult with years of experience. No.”

Peter adopts an innocent look. “You have family and other responsibilities too. And I’m sure Mr. Rhodes would let you attend school if I talked to him.”

“I will murder you, Parker.”

Cackling, Peter shifts out of reach. “I’m just saying!”

“Well you can ‘just say’ all you like. It’s not going to change my mind.”

“I would say you’re harsh for an old dude, but…”

“I am not old!” Tony exclaims. “I was never old!”

The look that Peter gives him speaks volumes, and Tony’s glare increases. Peter just shrugs. “Mr. Rhodes can’t help yet. And I bet none of your armors fit you, which means you can’t safely fly them. That leaves Vision. He can’t work by himself. So I’d be more than willing to step in to help.”

Damn it. He’s right. “I can call on the Fantastic Four or the X-Men.”

“You hate Reed Richards,” Peter points out, “and last week, you called the X-Men ‘a bunch of untrained kids’. At least I have a little bit of training.” He edges closer, all big puppy eyes. “C’mon, Mr. Stark. Let me help.”

“You’re not supposed to be an Avenger. I told you before, there are other people to handle this kind of stuff.” But Tony knows his resolve is weakening and so does Peter.

“Frankly, at this point I’m going to help whether you say I can or not,” Peter declares. “So you might as well say yes and at least let me do it honestly.”

Tony’s glare deepens. “I don’t appreciate blackmail.”

“No, but you appreciate me.” He grins cheekily. 

“Not at the moment, I don’t.” Tony’s headache is getting worse. He quickly runs over the armor metrics in his head. But no matter how much he tries to re-configure things, it will still be at least a week before the armor is ready. And then Tony will need at least a couple of test drives before he’s ready to do any fighting. He has the feeling that a decreased weight and height is going to mess with his skills.

He eyes Peter consideringly. He took Peter along when they met with the other Avengers because he was hoping that the conflict could be resolved peacefully, but he was trying to prepare for the worst-case scenario. Had he known that Steve was going to drop a plane on top of Peter, he never would’ve allowed Peter to come. He’s trying to avoid making more mistakes, not add to the ever increasing list. It’s tempting to just say a flat-out no and hope that no battles pop up in the near future.

But he also knows that Peter is stubborn, and the daily reports of Spider-Man are pretty much impossible to miss or ignore. Peter’s out there patrolling on a daily basis, facing down muggers, thieves, and worse. He’s also shown up to help out Tony and Vision a couple of times, though Tony’s always yelled at him afterwards. And he and Vision do work well together. It’s pretty hard to turn the offer away.

“If I agree, you have to swear that you will be careful,” he says. “The whole world knows this happened to me now. Villains might start coming out of the woodworks. I’m going to ask SHIELD to put their agents on high alert, and no matter how much I might dislike Richards, I’m going to do the same for the Fantastic Four and the X-Men. Maybe Daredevil too, if I can find him.”

“I know where he can be found. I’ll do it. Consider it my first Avenger assignment.” Peter’s up and out of the room in seconds, throwing a faint “Thanks Mr. Stark!” over his shoulder.

“Temporary Avenger!” Tony hollers after him, knowing that the words are falling on deaf ears. Then he groans and sinks his face into his hands. It was only a matter of time before this became an issue and Peter forced his hand. He basically has two options: turn the kid away and risk having Peter get hurt when he shows up unexpectedly anyway, or accept him (even temporarily) and do everything he can to mitigate the risks. It makes sense, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to like it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I've never really written Peter before, and it was very hard for me to be as light-hearted while writing as I wanted this chapter to be, so I'm nervous about posting it and hope you'll be kind.

“Holy shit.”

Peter lifts his head from where he’s washing the supper dishes and glances over his shoulder. “Aunt May?” he asks cautiously, because the last time he heard Aunt May swear it was because she’d just received notice that she was getting a raise at work – but this doesn’t sound like a good swear; she sounds shocked, more than anything. His senses start to tingle and he drops the dishes, creeping towards the living room, half-expecting to find something wrong. Instead…

“Holy shit,” Peter breathes, staring at the television. 

Rumors and speculation about Tony Stark have been running rampant over the past two weeks. You would think that interest would start to die down since Mr. Stark has kept himself firmly out of the limelight, but instead it’s only gotten worse. People are gagging to know what happened during that last battle when Mr. Stark went down _hard_. A couple of hastily snapped photographs had suggested that he’d been transformed into a teenager, but they were met with a healthy dose of skepticism – at least on Peter’s part.

This is pretty hard to refute, though. He edges a step closer, staring in wonder at the press conference and the sixteen-year-old Tony Stark that’s being introduced. Pepper Potts is doing the speaking right now, but Peter can’t bring himself to pay attention to what she's saying. All of his focus is on Mr. Stark. He’s seen pictures of the man when he was younger, of course, but now Peter's realizing it’s not the same. 

Mr. Stark looks… young. So young. His infamous, carefully groomed beard and mustache are gone, revealing what Aunt May would describe as a ‘baby face’. Without it, his face is all big brown eyes and a full mouth that’s pressed into a too-thin line as a reporter makes a dumb question about Iron Man. Peter feels a flash of indignation on Mr. Stark’s behalf, even though it’s comforting to see Mr. Stark’s expression smooth into the ‘you’re an idiot and I’m not inclined to hide the fact that I think you’re an idiot’ look.

At least now Peter knows why his last two sessions with Mr. Stark were canceled by FRIDAY. He'd asked her for details about what happened, but FRIDAY carefully skirted his questions and it hadn’t taken Peter long to realize that Mr. Stark didn’t want him to know the truth. That stung a little, but he gets it now. Mr. Stark prides himself on holding it together and on keeping a mask up at all times, especially in light of recent events. This must be killing him.

“Wow,” Aunt May says, turning the volume down. Mr. Stark and Jim (who told Peter that was he was forbidden to call him ‘Mr. Rhodes’) have departed the room and Ms. Potts is fielding questions. “That’s going to be a big change. I can’t imagine reverting back to that age. Your age.” She looks at Peter and shakes her head.

“It’s gonna be something,” Peter mutters under his breath. A disaster, most likely. He doesn’t know everything about Mr. Stark and the Avengers and the Accords, but he’s pieced together enough to know that this puts Mr. Stark at a real disadvantage.

It’s not fair. Mr. Stark is a good person, but it’s like the whole world doesn’t understand that. Sometimes Peter will drop by the workshop, and, in the split second before Mr. Stark realizes he’s there, he can see the exhaustion in Mr. Stark’s face. It makes Peter feel antsy with the urge to do something about it, though he’s not sure what – if anything – he can do. Any offers to help are always soundly rebuffed.

Though… maybe not this time. His eyes narrow with calculation. No matter how hard Peter tries to help with the Avengers, Mr. Stark just keeps telling him that he should be focusing on high school and the rest of his life. And Peter gets it, he really does - keeping a secret identity is hard work, especially when said secret identity starts to inevitably encroach on your real life. Mr. Stark says he's young and being a superhero comes with too much responsibility, but he doesn't say it like he means that Peter's not responsible enough. More like he means that he doesn't want to put that responsibility on anyone else's shoulders because it can destroy you.

The problem is, it's not Mr. Stark who is putting that responsibility out there. It's Peter who wants to take it. Because now he knows what kind of psychos are out there and he can't _not_ help (especially now that he knows that some of those psychos are people who are supposed to be your friends. People who wear the uniforms of superheroes. Sometimes they're not good people). Whether it's stopping thieves and rapists or gathering up Doom bots, he needs to do something. And he would prefer to do that something while helping Mr. Stark at the same time.

"Maybe they'll be able to fix it," Aunt May muses, and Peter looks at her in surprise. "Though I suppose a man like Tony Stark would've researched every possible avenue before announcing it to the world. I certainly would have. But I have to admit, I wouldn't mind having the hair I used to." She pats absently at her head. 

"I like your hair." Peter says automatically. 

"You say that every time, dear," she says, though she looks pleased. Well, until she catches sight of his hands anyway. Then she scolds, "Peter! You're dripping water all over the carpet!"

"Oops, sorry." Peter holds his hands up and backtracks to the sink. The water has cooled but he scrubs the last of the dishes anyway, his mind racing. This could be the moment where he finally gets to step up and help more. He's graduating high school this year. Soon, he'll be in college. That means he'll have even more free time than usual - or so he wants to think. The truth is, to help Mr. Stark, he'll _make_ the time.

So the next afternoon, when Peter gets out of school, he ignores the text from FRIDAY informing him that his session with Mr. Stark is cancelled and heads for the tower. He's not going to give up that easily, and he's not prepared to let Mr. Stark keep pushing him away. The receptionist lets him in with a nod and a smile after he shows his I.D. He doesn't even have to state the reason for his visit now, and he's not sure if it will ever not be weird to think that Peter Parker can walk right into Tony Stark's tower anytime he wants.

He heads into the elevator and puts his palm on the wall for FRIDAY to scan, but nothing happens. Peter frowns. "Um, hello?"

"I believe I sent you a text indicating that your session with Boss is cancelled," FRIDAY says.

Peter winces. "I didn't get it."

"Need I remind you, Mr. Parker, that my scans are capable of telling when a subject is lying?"

He blinks at that. "That sounds... really cool, actually. How can you tell?"

"I have readings on your normal body temperature, heart rate, and pupil dilation, all of which changed when you lied," FRIDAY says, but her voice is noticeably warmer. 

"Fair," Peter says with a shrug. "Okay, I got your text. I came anyway. I want to see Mr. Stark. I wanted to make sure he's okay."

"Boss is... fine."

He catches the hesitation, brief as it was. "Your fine or the Tony Stark fine?" Peter asks, raising an eyebrow. Because he's seen what the Tony Stark version of fine is. The worst was right after the disaster at the airport, when Jim was still in the hospital. Mr. Stark woke up screaming on the couch and promptly went into a full-on panic attack because the news was showing some of the footage of the airport. Vision had moved to tend to Mr. Stark while Peter slipped out of the room without being asked.

(It killed him, though. He wanted so badly to go back in and help. But he knew what would happen if he did. Mr. Stark would get all flustered and push Vision away, insisting that he was fine. He wasn't fine, and Peter and Vision both knew it, but Mr. Stark would pretend until it tore him apart. So Peter didn't go back in, but he didn't move away from the doorway either.

And leaning against the wall, listening to Mr. Stark's gasped sobs, it was the first time in his life that Peter Parker had actually hated a person. He'd hated the people who killed his parents and Uncle Ben, but no one had ever been caught and charged for those crimes, so the target for his hatred had no face. In this case, he knew exactly who deserved the blame. And he hated Captain America more than anything else in the world right then.)

Twenty minutes later Mr. Stark had swaggered into the kitchen like nothing was wrong, even though his face was still white and his hands had been shaking so badly he couldn't even pour himself a cup of coffee. He'd talked at Peter, but in that rambling way that meant he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. Peter ended up making the occasional noise to prove he was listening while he mopped up the spilled coffee and then poured Mr. Stark a new cup. 

Hands down, the worst part had been the moment when Mr. Stark flinched when Peter went to lift the rag from the table. 

"I can't answer that," FRIDAY says, drawing Peter's thoughts back to the present. He glances at the nearest camera.

"That tells me everything I need to know. C'mon, FRIDAY, I bet he needs a distraction. I can make him focus on something else for a little while. I brought a project for us to work on," Peter says, indicating the backpack at his feet.

FRIDAY doesn't say anything for close to thirty seconds. Peter times it on his phone. Then, still without a word, the elevator starts to move. Peter grins and grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as the doors open on the workshop's level. Walking into Tony Stark's workshop is still a thing of dreams; he's never not amazed by how cool everything is. It helps that Dummy, Butterfingers and You rush over to greet him as soon as he enters, like he's a long-lost friend that hasn't visited in forever. Maybe two weeks does feel like forever when you're a robot. Peter laughs a little and spends a couple of minutes with them while waiting for Mr. Stark.

In spite of the forewarning he got from the press conference, it still takes everything Peter has to keep his composure when Mr. Stark stumbles into the room. Because what the press conference didn't translate is just how attractive he is in person. Don't get Peter wrong - Mr. Stark's always been an attractive man - but now he's like... approachably hot. 

As in, if Peter walked by him in the hall of his high school, he probably would've tripped over something trying to watch Mr. Stark walk down the hall.

He swallows hard and orders himself to keep it together. He can see the strain in Mr. Stark's face, and that quickly overshadows everything else - but at least he makes Mr. Stark smile a couple of times, which makes pride swell in his chest, and he's pretty sure that Mr. Stark is trying not to laugh when he darts out of the room at the end of their session. He'll track Daredevil down later; the second he's out of Stark Tower, he grabs his phone and texts Mary Jane.

 **Me:** help I think I have a crush on mr stark

 **MJ:** lmao honey i couldve told u that ages ago why dont u grab him and kiss him hes pretty cute now ;)  <3

Peter glares down at his phone and tries to ignore the way his stomach tightens at the thought of kissing Mr. Stark. Not helpful.


	5. Chapter 5

Any good humor Tony gained from Peter’s visit doesn’t last long; he’s only in the workshop for another half an hour before FRIDAY lets him know that he has a video conference meeting scheduled with T’Challa and the private investigator that Tony recently hired. He thinks about canceling the meeting for approximately ten seconds before giving in with a sigh. He can’t put off the inevitable forever.

“Hook me up, FRI,” he says glumly, shooing away the blueprints for the suit. Progress is happening much more slowly than he’s comfortable with, but when he designed the suit in the first place he never thought to account for the fact that someday he would need to make it fit a much smaller and lighter frame.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.”

Tony pastes on a smile and turns around to face the screen. “I think you mean good afternoon, Felix, and I’ve told you before to call me ‘Tony’.”

T’Challa smiles back. “I wasn’t sure what name you would prefer considering the circumstances.”

At least T’Challa doesn’t beat around the bush. Tony has to give him that. “To be honest, it makes me feel even more like you’re addressing my father,” he admits. 

“Then I will call you Tony,” T’Challa says. “Have you been fairing well?”

“As well as I can. People can say whatever they want about the fountain of youth. Being a teenager again sucks. I’m hungry all the time. I hate it.” Tony pouts exaggeratedly, though he’s actually not lying. His stomach growls constantly, probably because when they were at MIT Rhodey used to drag him to meals all the time. 

“You have my sympathies. It is not something I would want to experience.”

“And that right there is why I like you so much,” Tony says with feeling. 

“Boss, I have Jessica Jones on the line for you,” FRIDAY says.

“Ready?” Tony asks. At T’Challa’s nod, he adds, “Patch her in.”

Jessica appears on her own screen beside T’Challa a moment later. Tony did a lot of research before he even considered hiring someone to investigate Ross. They needed someone who can be extremely discreet, but who can also find the kind of evidence they need to put Ross away for good. With her (unadvertised) powers, Jessica is touted as one of the best in New York.

“How have things been?” Tony asks.

She shrugs one shoulder. “Okay. He has no idea I’ve been following him. He’s over-confident and he doesn’t think much of women.” Her smirk indicates exactly what she thinks of that.

“He doesn’t think much of anyone besides himself,” Tony says. 

“Do you have the evidence we need?” T’Challa asks.

“I’m working on it. I have some pictures I’m uploading to your private server, Mr. Stark.”

Tony conceals a shudder at the name and taps into his server. He looks at the picture, lips pursed. Ross is definitely doing business with some shady characters, but it’s not quite enough for what Tony has in mind. He wants to put Ross away for life. He wants to slam a whole slew of charges against him; right now they’ve got unlawful imprisonment (because Clint and the others were never officially charged) and torture (Wanda’s collar and straight jacket) as well as other illegal activities, but it’s not enough.

“That’s a good start,” says T’Challa. “Do you know who these people are?”

“Best I can tell, he’s hiring them to try and find out where the ex-Avengers are located.”

T’Challa tenses. “Are they heading for Wakanda?”

Jessica shrugs. “I had the conversation bugged, but they were annoyingly vague. I can’t say one way or the other. But I would suggest that tightening up your security might not be a bad idea, your highness.”

“I will put my guards on alert.”

Tony leans back, thinking. He knows that Ross knows that Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Sam and Scott are in Wakanda. He just doesn’t have any proof. As long as they stay within Wakanda’s borders, Ross can’t get to them – and if he tries without T’Challa’s permission, that’s as good as an invasion. So they’re covered on that front. That’s a short-term solution, though. T’Challa has made it clear he has no desire to house the ex-Avengers forever.

What Tony really wants is to get Ross out of the way. Then he can approach the UN with the recommendation that the ex-Avengers be offered the chance for a trial, should they be willing to give themselves up peacefully. He’s not sure how that trial will go. But it’s their best option. No matter what Steve thinks, there’s no way that the majority public is just going to let the ex-Avengers go without accepting responsibility for their crimes: the deaths, the injuries, the damages. Someone has to pay, and it’s not going to be just Tony.

He actually does think that a couple of them – Steve, Clint, Natasha – have a chance at coming through without much of a penalty. They’ve built up some goodwill, and the sway of Captain America can be pretty strong. He’s not sure about Sam or Scott. Scott left the country without telling his parole officer, which is a pretty big violation. And Wanda… Tony tries not to think about her. She’s a big problem, especially because she’s shown zero sign of working to get her powers under control.

“I can’t control their fear. Only my own.”

Vision had said those words, repeating Wanda’s words when she left the safe house with Clint. Those words make Tony want to spit with frustration. He grew up in the eye of the public. He knows better than anyone how it works. It's true that you can’t control fear, but you can _mitigate_ it. You can control your public image; you can learn to control your powers; you can accept consequences. You can show the public that you are thinking before you act, and that you are growing from your actions. 

Wanda is doing nothing of those things. The S.I. P.R. firm has done a couple of polls under the table. The general public attitude towards Wanda is not positive. Tony has actually been in contact with Dr. Stephen Strange to ask him about helping Wanda to learn some control, because he’s pretty sure that will be a condition of Wanda’s parole – should she be granted any, that is.

Because Tony isn’t fooling himself. Wanda may very well end up in another jail cell at this rate. The whole team might, particularly if they still refuse to sign the Accords once they’ve been suitably amended (though at this point, Tony questions whether any of them even know what ‘amend’ means since the word fell on deaf ears before). The longer they hide away in Wakanda, and the higher the reconstruction bills run, the angrier the public and governments get. It’s not enough to say ‘we put away the bad guys’ if you’ve left behind devastation in your wake. Too bad the only person who seems to understand that is Tony.

Well, not the only person. He glances back at the two screens, where Jessica and T’Challa have continued their discussion without any input from Tony. It’s still kind of a novel feeling to know that he has people who support him in what he’s doing. People who will actually listen to what he has to say without automatically deeming him wrong just because of who he is. 

That’s all he ever needed, really. He didn’t need the team to automatically declare him right. He still doesn’t. He just needed them to listen. To talk. Not for Steve to hear a two-line summary of the Accords and then throw it back into Tony’s face and refuse to even discuss it. 

“I think that plan will do nicely. What do you think, Tony?” T’Challa asks. Judging from his knowing glance, he’s aware that Tony wasn’t paying attention. Mercifully, he adds, “Jessica will continue following Ross and attempt to find out more details. She will also look into the men that Ross was meeting.”

“Logical plan of attack,” Tony says with a nod. 

“Then I’m out,” Jessica says. Her screen goes dark.

Left with just T’Challa, Tony’s curiosity gets the better of him. “How are… I mean, are things good?”

T’Challa considers the question. “I’m not sure good is the word I would use,” he says slowly. “I’ve noticed some growing restlessness from Barton and Lang, especially Barton. He seems very concerned that he has not spoken to his family.”

“I gave Laura the phone,” Tony says with a sigh. He can’t blame her for not wanting to use it.

“I know. Rogers seems to spend most of his time drawing or working out. He doesn’t frequently speak with the others. Wilson and Romanov are harder to read. I have not broached the topic of the Accords with them yet. I realize you believe it’s important to get their input, and I don’t disagree, but I suspect that none of them will react well. I believe that at the moment, they have no idea the Accords are being amended.”

“Figures. They wouldn’t listen to me then. Why listen now?” Tony mutters. He hesitates, knowing that he won't like the answer to this question, but unable to stop himself from asking. "Do they know about me?"

"Yes. We were watching the press conference. The general consensus seemed to be one of amusement, mixed with smug superiority and a certainty that, had they been there to give aid, this wouldn't have happened." T'Challa's lips purse in annoyance. "Barton pointed out several times that he felt that your physical age now matched your mental age."

Even though he's expecting it, their reactions still hurt. No mention of concern for a former teammate, or trepidation over the hurdles Tony is facing, or even forced sympathy. Just amusement and scorn. And to think, not that long ago he thought those people were his family. It takes effort to maintain his blank expression and not break down in front of T'Challa. Tony won't let himself be weak in front of one of his few remaining allies. 

"I see. Thank you for your honesty. I'm afraid I have to go now. I have company arriving."

"We will talk soon," T'Challa says. "Best of luck, Tony."

"Thanks." It's probably really rude to cut the chat before T'Challa can say anything else, but Tony can hardly breathe and he doesn't want T'Challa to see that. He bends over, resting his forehead against a table until the shakes stop and his lungs loosen up enough to let some air in. 

They don't care. Not a single one of them cares.

"Assholes," Tony whispers to himself. His voice sounds overly thick. His throat aches. He blinks until his eyes stop burning, and only then does he straighten up. Slowly, he leaves the workshop.

He takes the elevator up to the communal floor. Even though he was telling T'Challa the truth when he said he had company coming, he's still surprised when the elevator doors open to reveal that Laura has already arrived. She's sitting on the couch with a box of unopened donuts in her lap, a glass of white wine on the coffee table and a tired look on her face. She looks up, meeting Tony's gaze, and for a moment they just stare at each other.

Then Laura breaks the silence with a quiet, "Hey."

Just that one word. It's more than enough. The _kindness_ from someone who is not in his immediate friend circle, or someone who he mentors, shatters the fragile calm he's been clinging to. Without warning, Tony's eyes fill with tears that quickly pool over and roll down his cheeks. 

Laura's face crumbles and she sets the donuts aside, jumping up. "Oh, honey. Come here." She crosses the room in about ten seconds, pulling him into a hug. Tony doesn't resist, wrapping his own arms around her and clutching the back of her blouse with trembling fingers. They're about the same height now, he realizes with a flush of shame. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this.


	6. Chapter 6

“That’ll do it for today, Mr. Stark. Good job.”

Tony stops, backing off and letting his hands drop to his sides. He's breathing hard, sweat running down his face and back and dampening his tank top. Happy grins at him as he pulls off his boxing gloves. Tony tries to return the smile, but it's hard. Boxing had never been an interest of his until he reached his early forties and hired Happy, which means that the muscle and memory he spent years building is now gone. He's essentially starting from scratch and it sucks.

“You’re doing really good,” Happy says, no doubt guessing what Tony is thinking. “You’ll be back at the level where you used to be in another couple of months, tops.” He claps Tony on the shoulder. “Especially if you keep up with the yoga and working out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mutters, pulling his own gloves off. Yoga was Laura’s idea. It's never something Tony was capable of doing before. A lot of the yoga positions put too much strain on his chest even after the arc reactor was gone, and he was never flexible enough for the rest of them. Now, he has no such excuse. He doesn’t exactly enjoy yoga, but it's useful in helping him to re-figure out the limits of a sixteen-year-old body. 

He takes a deep breath just because he can, luxuriating in the feel of his lungs fully expanding without bumping up against the arc reactor or scar tissue. He doesn’t think he'll ever get tired of that. He knew that his breathing was severely restricted before. But it's a whole different ballgame to actually _feel_ the difference. Life is much easier when you can take a full breathe of air.

Happy’s smile is pure sympathy. “I mean it, Boss. You’re doing well. Better than most kids your age.”

“Don’t call me a kid,” Tony mutters, making a face. He rolls his shoulders. “Thanks for the session, Hap. I know you’re busy with Pep.”

“I’m never too busy to punch you.”

“Haha,” Tony says dryly. “Stretch?”

“You know it.”

This, at least, is easy. They spend about fifteen minutes stretching their muscles out before Tony heads off to shower. He deliberately avoids looking in the mirror as he undresses, not wanting to compare this body to his old one and come up lacking. Breathing deep is nice. But he misses the hard-earned muscles he earned from years of working in the workshop and wearing the armor. Those aren't going to happen again overnight. 

He showers quickly and hauls on jeans and a t-shirt before joining Laura and Rhodey for dinner. Laura is a spectacular cook, and she's made it clear that she is getting some weight on Tony before she left. The result of that – for tonight, anyway – is a heaping spread of fried chicken, salad, freshly baked rolls and chocolate cake for dessert. Rhodey is practically drooling as Laura sets the last pan of chicken down.

“You can stay forever if you want to,” he says.

Laura chuckles. “I’ll think about it. Here honey, let me.” She takes Tony’s plate and fills it up with three pieces of chicken, two rolls and lots of salad. Tony doesn’t protest. He's more than capable of getting his own food, but he has to admit that he kind of likes letting Laura fuss over him.

She’s been nice enough to remain silent on the subject of his little breakdown three days ago, but he noticed that ever since she’s been acting a little more… dare he think it… motherly towards him. And as nice as it is, it's also a little weird. Not long ago he was older than Laura, and, while she fussed over him then too, it just doesn’t feel the same way that it does now. 

Part of that is purely on Tony, of course. He realized pretty early on that he didn’t see people the same way anymore. Take Pepper, for example. While his brain still registers her as the beautiful woman he loved and lost, his eyes see her as a middle-aged woman (still attractive for her age, but not someone he's necessarily attracted to) who is much too old for him. The same thing is happening with Laura. When he looks at her, he just doesn’t see her in the same way. 

Conversely, people who were once much too _young_ for him (and who he wouldn’t have looked twice at before, because ew) are now registering as very attractive. He might have jerked off to a couple of teen pop stars last night, feeling ashamed and dirty the whole time, and he'll be carrying that secret to the grave thank you very much.

It's all very confusing and honestly, Tony isn’t really sure what he's supposed to do about it yet. He doesn’t want to go without sex for the rest of his life – and honestly, considering he keeps popping a boner every five minutes, isn’t sure if he’ll be able to. Unfortunately, people he is mentally the same age as would find it creepy to have sex with him in his current body (and anyone who didn’t was not someone Tony wanted to have sex with). And considering he is still mentally in his fifties, is it really okay to have sex with someone he is physically the same age as?

There is no right answer, and it isn’t like he can ask Laura or Rhodey what he's supposed to do. Well, maybe Rhodey if only to see the look of horror his question would get. But in all seriousness, this is unprecedented territory. The answer is probably that physical beats mental in this case, but then how is he supposed to stop from feeling like a dirty old man all the time?

“Tones? Hey, you okay?”

At the sound of Rhodey’s voice, Tony looks up in surprise. “What?”

“You’re not eating,” Laura says with a worried frown. “Are you feeling sick?” She goes to put her hand on his forehead, but he ducks away just in time.

"Not sick. I'm fine. I was just thinking about an upgrade I'm working on for Spider-Man's suit."

"I thought you were working on the armor," Rhodey says.

"I am. But he's insisting on helping more me and Vision out more, so I decided he needed a suit upgrade." Tony cuts into his chicken, licking his lips. He groans around his first bite, suddenly understanding that old line about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach. 

"You like it?" Laura smiles. "This is Cooper's favorite too."

"You're a goddess amongst mortals," Tony says honestly, leaving behind his earlier thoughts in favor of digging into his meal with renewed gusto. He's focused enough on the food that Rhodey and Laura pick up the conversation, talking about some home renovation show where couples argued about whether they should sell their house or not. 

When they're done eating, and Tony can't eat another crumb of chocolate cake if he tried, he's shooed away from the table. Even though she's the one who cooked Laura insists on doing the dishes without his help, though she don't protest when Rhodey gets up and starts to clear away the plates. Tony leaves them to it and takes the elevator down to the workshop.

His mood is a little better now, since he's making decent progress on the armor. He wasn't lying, though. He did set aside some time to work on Peter's suit. The new version is made of a very similar fabric to the last Captain America, Black Widow and Hawkeye uniforms that Tony produced, but with increased flexibility since Peter's fighting style requires a lot of maneuvering. He also focused less on making it lightweight, since Peter has super strength, and more on durability and protection.

And then there is the mask. It's no longer just a mask. Not only did he heavily increase the protective capabilities, he created a miniature communicator that will allow Peter to remain in contact with any other Avengers at all times. It also has an emergency button that will immediately alert FRIDAY to Peter's location in the event something goes wrong. Those are the two most important features as far as Tony is concerned; the light interface and scanner that can provide Peter with details about any enemies he is fighting are just a bonus.

"Boss? Mr. Parker has arrived," FRIDAY says.

Tony blinks, pulling his eyes away from the holograms. "Send him in, Fry."

"Mr. Stark?" Peter arrives at the workshop door a moment later, but he doesn't come in. Tony doesn't get why until he actually looks at the kid and realizes that Peter is soaked. He's so wet that water is actually dripping off of his hair and clothes, forming a small puddle around his feet.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tony demands.

Peter smiles sheepishly. "It, uh, started raining on my way here?"

"You're an idiot," Tony says, not really meaning it. He grabs the new suit, tucking it under his arm and walking towards Peter. "No, don't come in. You're going to get water everywhere. You think Dummy's dangerous with a fire extinguisher? Clearly you've never seen him with a mop. Back up. Yes, into the elevator. I can't let you freeze to death or your aunt would kill me with her bare hands. I have a healthy fear of her after seeing the way she yelled at that guy on the bike."

"Actually, she'd probably just be mad at me for not taking an umbrella this morning."

"I always get blamed," Tony says with a wave of his hand. He misses Peter's frown as the elevator doors open again to reveal his floor. "I'll get you some towels." He marches out, setting the suit down on the coffee table. Though it's designed to withstand getting wet, ideally Peter will be dry before it was tried on.

He goes down the hall and into the bathroom, pulling a stack of towels out of the cabinet. Realizing that Peter will also need some dry clothing, he detours into his bedroom and scrounges up a pair of jeans - his old jeans, because as much as he hates to admit it, he is now several inches shorter than Peter and his new clothes probably won't fit - before returning to the living room.

"Peter, do you -" The question dies as soon as Tony looks up. His mouth hangs open a little.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark?" Peter finishes pulling his sweatshirt up over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. Tony never noticed before, but Peter is _ripped_. He has a very well defined six pack, and his biceps shift in a beautiful play of muscles as he balls up the dripping sweatshirt. A thin layer of dark hair starts below his belly button and trails below his low-slung jeans.

Tony stares. His mouth is completely dry. 

"Mr. Stark?" Peter says again, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Tony croaks. No. No, he is not. He swallows hard and hastily tosses the towels on the couch. "Here you go feel free to take a shower I'll put some coffee on to help warm you up!" he blurts out and literally runs for the kitchen. He stumbles inside, jamming the palm of his hand against his hard cock and trying not to think about... _anything_.

This can _not_ be happening.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm picturing Mary Jane as Zendaya with red hair, and Gwen as the Emma Stone version.

For several seconds Peter doesn’t move. He can’t move. He feels frozen. He stares blankly at the doorway, certain that his brain is broken. Because he can’t have witnessed what his brain is telling him that he witnesses. There is no way that Mr. Stark popped a boner just because Peter is standing in the living room half-naked. That doesn’t even happen in Peter’s _fantasies_ , never mind real life.

But the evidence is hard to dispute. Mr. Stark walked into the room, took one look at Peter, tossed the towels and clothing on the floor and high-tailed it out of the room. And it's not like Peter was looking at his crotch (okay, he might've been looking a little bit) but it was pretty hard to miss the definite tenting. He couldn't have imagined that, right? Why else would Mr. Stark have run away?

“Oh my god,” he says under his breath. “Um, FRIDAY?”

“Yes?”

“Is Mr. Stark… uh, is Mr. Stark okay?”

“Boss is indisposed at the moment,” FRIDAY says, which is usually code for ‘Mr. Stark is having a panic attack and doesn’t want to be around other people at the moment’, but that didn’t _look_ like panic from where Peter’s standing. He swallows hard, stomach going warm and fluttery at the thought that maybe it really did happen.

He does look good now. Or better, at least, then he used to look. The first time Gwen caught sight of him after he was bitten by the spider, she’d openly mourned the fact that she was gay and suggested that she and Peter experiment just to see what happened. Just remembering the way she leered at him and licked her lips makes Peter’s face flush. 

He's taken to wearing a lot of baggy clothes to hide his body and keep people from wondering about how fit he suddenly is. So maybe Mr. Stark didn’t realize just how well muscled Peter is? But then again, he created Peter’s suit, and that is is _very_ well-tailored, so Mr. Stark definitely has his measurements. That line of reasoning doesn’t make a lot of sense either.

He slowly drops his jeans and boxers with another self-conscious look at the door, grabbing a towel and winding it around his waist. Then he digs out his phone, safely hidden at the bottom of his soaked backpack. The screen opens up to his last discussion with Mary Jane and Gwen; both of them get a kick out of sending him pictures of men and women and asking for his rating. He’s not sure why. Quickly, he types:

 **Me:** I think I mightve given mr stark a boner

If he was worried about not getting an answer, he needn’t have been. 

**MJ:** YAS!!!

 **MJ:** I TOLD U TO KISS HIM

 **Gwen:** did u kiss him

 **MJ:** u should kiss him

 **Gwen:** u should take pics

 **Gwen:** PICS OR IT DIDNT HAPPEN

Peter rolls his eyes and honestly wonders why he bothers sometimes. He would’ve texted Ned instead, except he’s pretty sure that the last thing Ned wants to hear about is Peter arousing anyone. He glances up at the kitchen, which is still quiet, and then back down at his phone. The messages are still rolling in, more of the same, except now they’re both yelling at him.

 **MJ:** DID U KISS HIM

 **Gwen:** DID U SUCK HIS COCK

He chokes, flushing red, and types back.

 **Me:** : wtf of course not!!!!! Mr stark doesnt like me that way u guys come on what do I do he ran away

 **MJ:** hes overwhelmed by your sexiness ❤

 **MJ:** good job tiger

 **Me:** gross

 **Gwen:** not gross u want to jump him lol

 **Me:** NOT HELPING

 **Gwen:** if he ran away u should follow

 **MJ:** FOLLOW NAKED

It's official, Peter has the worst friends _in the entire world_. He locks his phone, certain that his face is now the color of his costume, and stuffs it back into his backpack. The unfortunate thing is that unless he wants to hide in the living room until Mr. Stark comes back out, Gwen is right. He does have to follow. But he's definitely not going to follow Mary Jane's advice about what to wear.

He grabs another towel and dries off quickly, then picks up the clothing that Mr. Stark brought for him. The jeans are a little short in the leg, but fit well enough. He yanks on the shirt - plain black, and Peter has to squash a flicker of disappointment because he would love to wear one of those dumb music shirts Mr. Stark used to wear all the time - and shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

"Mr. Stark?" he calls out, poking his head into the kitchen.

Mr. Stark is standing in front of the coffeemaker, shoved up close against the counter. The back of his neck is flushed. A bead of sweat slowly rolls out from under his hairline and down his neck; Peter watches it, mesmerized, and can't help thinking about how much he'd like to lick that bead off of Mr. Stark. Which just leads to a whole bunch of other thoughts that makes him immeasurably grateful that Mr. Stark's jeans are loose in the waist.

“Call me Tony,” Mr. Stark says, sounding a little hoarse.

“What?”

“I said, call me Tony. We’re the same age now, right?” Mr. Stark – Tony – looks at Peter over his shoulder. “It’s dumb for you to keep calling me ‘Mr. Stark’.”

He’s asked for that before, but Peter hasn’t been able to bring himself to make the change. Until now. He clears his throat. “Um, okay. Tony.” The name tastes odd on his tongue, but he likes the way his lips curl around the word. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just wanted some coffee. It’s been a long morning.” Tony turns back, hands lifting to fiddle with the coffeemaker as though that was his original intent all along. “I was boxing with Happy this morning and it didn’t go well. My muscles are pathetic now. The only good thing about this crap is that my stamina is a lot better.”

Peter’s face goes hot again. He deliberately forces himself to _not_ think about what else good stamina is relevant to. “You’ll get back to where you were before,” he says lamely. It’s a cold comfort. Aunt May used to pat him on the back all the time and say that Peter would get by with his brains, not brawn, and that things could change for him if he had another growth spurt or worked hard. It didn’t help then and he doubt it helps now.

Tony sighs. “Yeah. It’s only going to take me another thirty years.” He finally turns away from the counter, reaching for a mug.

“Did you want to run together?” The question is out before Peter can bite it back. He immediately curses his big mouth as Tony stares at him in surprise. 

“Run together?” Tony repeats.

Too late to take it back, so… “Well, yeah. I know I have increased stamina and strength because of the spider bite, but I always think that it could be better. Maybe next time, I’d have the energy to save one more person.” Because he’s been there too many times: times when being a little faster or a little stronger or a little less winded would’ve saved someone else. There’s no worse feeling in the world.

“So you run.”

“Every morning before school if I can. I don’t have access to a gym, but running can be done pretty much anywhere.” Peter shrugs. He likes Central Park, though it’s a popular place. Especially since sometimes people used to see Captain America and the Falcon out jogging. The park is actually a hell of a lot better now that you can’t, though most people would probably disagree.

He’s fully expecting Tony to say no, so it shocks him when Tony shrugs and says, “Sure. Why not?”

“What? Really?” Peter blurts out.

Amusement flashes across Tony’s face. He pours himself a mug of coffee. “I don’t like jogging. It’s never been my go-to exercise. But like I said, one of the few good things about this is not having to deal with a reduced lung capacity and scarring. I guess I should be taking advantage of it.”

“That… makes sense,” Peter says, aiming for cool and calm and coming out flustered. Holy shit, he has a date with Tony Stark to go jogging!

Well, not a _date_ -date.

He hopes he’s not blushing as badly as he thinks he is.

“I like to think so. Text me tomorrow morning. I’ll join you.” Tony takes a sip of the coffee and points a finger at Peter. “Give me twenty minutes and then come down to the workshop. I’ll show you something amazing.”

Peter’s eyes drop automatically when Tony saunters past him. His throat goes bone dry when he gets a good look at Tony’s ass. It’s a very nice ass, Peter’s always thought so, but now he’s calling the owner of that ass by his first name and they have a date to go jogging and he’s borrowing clothes and –

Jim slides past Tony as Tony walks out, heading straight for the coffee machine. He stops short when he spots Peter. “You okay, kid? You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

“I’m fine,” Peter croaks. Rookie move. He should’ve kept silent, because Jim slowly turns to look at him with the kind of intensity that makes the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stand straight up. He stares back helplessly and nearly chokes on spit when Jim’s lips start to curve up in a smirk.

“What were you looking at when Tony walked out?” he says.

“Nothing!”

Jim laughs. It’s a kind laugh, but still a laugh. “Oh boy. You aim high, I’ll give you that much.”

“I! I don’t! I’m not! I mean!” Peter squeaks out.

“Breathe,” Jim advises, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring himself a cup. “Tony likes to hoard the best coffee,” he explains, even though Peter didn’t ask. "He thinks I don't notice that the stuff he stocks in the kitchen on the communal floor isn't nearly as high a quality as this."

Peter just stands there and looks at him, speechless.

Jim mixes in a little sugar and then takes a deep drink, draining half the cup. He lets out a contented sigh before turning his attention back to Peter. "So, you and Tony huh?"

"No!" Peter squeaks again. "God no. I didn't - I wasn't -"

"But you want to," Jim says, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Right?"

Peter opens and closes his mouth soundlessly.

"I'll take that as a yes. Frankly, it's not the worst idea I've heard."

That actually snaps Peter out of his mortification. "Wait. What?"

Jim shrugs. "You're young, smart, and you adore Tony. I can think of a worse list of traits. And frankly, thinking about Tony's ex-boyfriends, you're several grades above most of them." 

"I wasn't," Peter says again, but weakly. "Besides, Tony doesn't think of me that way."

"Tony, huh?" Jim says, and laughs when Peter flushes again. "You'd be surprised, Peter. I don't think Tony's let himself think of anyone like that since he broke up with Pepper. But he needs someone who cares about him. Someone who doesn't believe the worst the world has to offer. Someone who has a rough idea of what he's been through. And in all fairness, you two are the same age now."

"It doesn't seem like it."

"Give it time," Jim says with a slight smile. "It's only been a couple weeks. I can see the difference already, trust me." He finishes off the cup of coffee and pours himself another mug. "If you want to give it a shot, Tony will be the hardest one to persuade. But you'd have my blessing so long as you treat him right."

"You don't think he'd want me?" Peter blurts out.

Jim laughs again. "The opposite, actually. But I know Tony wouldn't let himself want you. That's the problem. Good luck with figuring out how to get past the worst case of denial I've ever seen." He lifts his mug in Peter's direction, like a mock toast, and then saunters out of the room, leaving Peter staring after him in dumbfounded silence.


	8. Chapter 8

Rhodey’s eyes are burning a hole in the side of Tony’s head. Tony tries not to notice, focusing his attention on the documents that Jessica couriered over, but it grows increasingly hard to ignore. Finally, he gives in and sits up, glancing at Rhodey and saying, “Can I help you with something?”

“Nope,” Rhodey says, deliberately popping the ‘p’.

“Then why are you staring at me?”

“Just wondering how you’re doing, that’s all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to believe that. Sometimes I don’t think you know what the word ‘fine’ actually means.”

Tony frowns at that, insulted. “I know exactly what it means, and it’s what I am.”

“Tones.” Rhodey sits forward, expression intense. “Come on, it’s me.”

“What do you want me to say? This sucks. I know it sucks.” Tony slaps the folder shut and sits back. He’s kind of craving a drink, but admittedly he wasn’t drinking much at sixteen so it’s more of a mental thing. “Every day I discover something else that’s different, or that doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. The good things about this are vastly outweighed by the bad things.”

Rhodey’s quiet for a moment. “I can’t argue with you there,” he says finally. “At least the timing doesn’t suck as much as it could.”

“It could be worse,” Tony has to admit that. The shit with the accords was bad enough without having to deal with Steve while only being sixteen years old. “But it’s not great either. I’m dreading the thought of what’ll happen when they come back home.” He knows he doesn’t have to elaborate. Rhodey knows exactly who he’s talking about.

"You don't have to bring them back, you know."

"Yeah I do. The world needs the Avengers, and the world is more important than me."

"I meant you don't have to bring them back _here_ ," Rhodey clarifies. He gets up and comes to sit beside Tony. "No one would blame you if you decided that you don't want them in the tower or the compound. No one would blame you if you decided that you don't want to make weapons or give them upgrades anymore. No one is expecting you to go back to the way things were before."

"They are," Tony says, because he knows it's true. He hasn't had any contact with any of the Avengers since they took off. But Tony knows how they, especially Steve, think. And there is zero doubt in his mind that Steve will think that everything that happened is Tony's fault, and that if Tony had only been willing to give up on the idea of the Accords none of this would have happened...

Which Tony also know is stupid. The Accords weren't going to just disappear. His biggest mistake, as far as Tony can see, was not involving the Avengers from day one. He should've dragged them along to every damn meeting and made them sit through the hours of complaining and scolding that Tony sat through. At least then, maybe Steve would've understood that it wasn't Tony pushing the Accords. It was the combined weight of 117+ countries, all coming together to say that the Avengers needed to be held accountable.

He still wonders sometimes if Steve would've been more receptive to the idea if it had come from someone else. The team stopped trusting him after Ultron (if they had ever trusted him, a little voice whispers inside of Tony), so maybe if someone like Fury had introduce the Accords it might've gone over better. Maybe they would've at least read the stupid document before deciding against it.

"I don't care what _they_ think," Rhodey says, drawing Tony's attention back to him. "They're not your team anymore. What they want doesn't matter to me." He wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders. "You're so much better than them."

"That's Captain America you're talking about," Tony points out with a little laugh.

"I don't care," Rhodey repeats. The vehemence in his voice is surprising, and Tony stares at him with wide eyes as Rhodey adds, "I know you think that Captain America is some pinnacle of human goodness. But you're the one who matters to me. Not people who ran away from their problems rather than face them head-on. Rogers can pretend that he was taking a stance all he wants, but you know and I know that he was taking the coward's way out by refusing to try and come to a compromise.

"So I mean it, Tony. You're slowly but surely gathering a new team around you. You have me and Laura, you have Vision, you have Peter. You have Dr. Strange, weird as he is. And I know you've been in contact with a few other people, too. You don't need the Avengers to be here with you."

Tony just stares at him, shocked. "You're biased," he manages finally.

Rhodey snorts. "Not biased. I'd argue that I'm the only one out of all of you that can see this situation with clear eyes. So if you don't want the rest of them around you, and I whole-heartedly support that decision by the way, then don't. Let them all get jobs. Let them work for a living like the rest of us. Stop giving them a free ride. You can be cordial and polite all you want, but that's as far as it has to go."

There's a weird tightening in the back of Tony's throat that makes it hard to swallow. The idea that someone actually cares about _Tony_ in the midst of all this... He ducks his head, blinking rapidly, and curses this stupid, emotional teenaged body. Rhodey, mercifully, doesn't call attention to the brief bout of weakness. He just hugs Tony that much tighter and rubs his arm while Tony gets his breathing back under control.

"I don't know," Tony mumbles after a couple of minutes. "I really don't. And luckily, I think it'll be a while before I have to decide." Not long enough, by Tony's estimate. But frankly, he's grateful for any kind of a reprieve. The thought of facing Steve right now, much less Steve with the rest of the Avengers behind him, makes him shiver. 

"It'll be okay," Rhodey says comfortingly, still hugging him tightly. Tightly enough that they both feel it when something vibrates in Tony's pocket. A little surprised, Tony digs into his pocket and comes up with his phone. There's a text on the screen.

 **Peter:** MY MASK IS PANS TY

"PANS?" Rhodey says, shamelessly reading over Tony's shoulder. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I... don't actually know," Tony admits. Either it's a typo, or an abbreviation of some kind. "FRIDAY?"

FRIDAY, bless her, is used to this by now. "My searches show that PANS is short for Pretty Awesome New Stuff, boss," she says. "TY is short for Thank You."

"I'm thinking that's a compliment," Tony says. He types back.

 **Me:** Tell me you're not typing while web slinging again

 **Peter:** no 

Rhodey chuckles. "And I'm thinking that's a yes. Knowing Peter, he's probably on his way here to thank you for his new gear. Unlike some people I could mention, the kid's actually appreciative when you give him something."

"Is that bitterness I'm hearing, Rhodes?"

"Yup. Bitterness enough for both of us, since you seem to be lacking any."

Tony shoots him a wry smile. What Rhodey doesn't seem to understand - what no one seems to understand - is that Tony can't afford to be bitter. What he saw when he took that missile through the portal was so much bigger than anything else could be. He has to find a way to get over what happened so that he can at least work with the team. He's just not sure how that's going to happen.

 **Peter:** i was fighting some1

"What?" Tony squawks at his phone. "Fighting and texting? You little...! You're grounded until you're twenty-five!"

"Okay no, that's creepy now," Rhodey says. "You can't threaten to ground someone who is young enough to be your boyfriend."

"Yes I - what?" Tony stares in shock. " _What_?!"

"Oh, come on, Tones. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. I remember what you were like the first time around. Trying to keep you away from all those assholes at MIT who wanted to take advantage of you was a pain in my ass, mostly because you were constantly horny." Rhodey gives him a look. "You _have_ to have thought about it."

"I... what? No!"

"Liar," Rhodey says without missing a beat. "You totally have. I can tell by the way you're blushing."

"I am not blushing!"

"You don't have any facial hair to hide behind this time, dude. You totally are," Rhodey teases, grinning. "Who was it you were thinking about? Peter?"

And Tony's face feels like it's on _fire_ because his traitorous brain chooses that moment to shove the mental image of Peter, half-naked in the living room, front and center. Rhodey bursts out laughing. Tony will deny it until his dying day, but he makes a sound that can only be considered a squeak of mortification and jumps up off the couch. He leaves his phone and the documents behind and flees into the kitchen.

"I am a horrible person, oh my god," he mutters fretfully, running his hands through his hair and pacing back and forth. What if Peter finds out that Tony thought about him like that for even a second? Or worse, what if Peter finds out that Tony actually got a boner because of him, like some creepy old-ass man -

"Hey. That's my best friend and little brother you're talking about. Knock it off." Rhodey comes up behind him and crushes Tony in a hug before Tony can squirm away. 

"I am a terrible pervert," Tony says mournfully. 

Rhodey sighs against the back of his neck. "This is not how I was hoping this talk would go, though I can't say I'm surprised. You are physically, and much as I hated to admit, emotionally a teenager again, kiddo. And you could do a hell of a lot worse than Peter."

"He's seventeen!"

"You're sixteen."

"Not mentally."

"Pepper would argue differently," Rhodey says thoughtfully. "But really. You plan to spend the rest of your life alone?"

Tony hangs his head. "Who else would put up with me?"

" _Tony_. Jesus." Rhodey spins him around and yanks him into an even tighter hug. "That is not even close to true, okay? You're a good person and you deserve someone who loves you. Far as I can tell, that kid adores the shit out of you. I'm just saying, you could do a hell of a lot worse."

"I think the worst part of this whole experience," Tony says, voice muffled by Rhodey's chest, "is the fact that you think it's okay to set me up on dates again."

Rhodey snorts. "If that's the worst part, we're doing okay." He pulls Tony's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. "Don't try to joke your way out of this. I'm being serious here. I don't want you doing that thing where you isolate yourself and push everyone away because you think you can handle things on your own. We're all here for you."

And in the end, all Tony can think to answer that is, "It's _weird_ , Rhodey."

"I know." Rhodey's face soften with sympathy. "It's really weird."

"He was like twenty-some years younger than me up until six weeks ago," Tony adds. "I feel like some dirty old man for even considering the idea. That's not a good way to feel, believe me."

"I get it. And I'm not trying to push you into anything. I just..." Rhodey shrugs. "I want you to be happy, Tones. Even if it's not with Pepper. I want you to have someone because I know that's what you want. Just promise me you won't use this whole thing as an excuse to shut the door on that idea forever."

It's not fair that, even after all these years, Rhodey can look at him with those huge puppy eyes and make Tony want to give in. Almost before he realizes what he's doing, Tony's nodding. "Alright, fine," he grumbles. "I will think about it. But that's it. And not Peter!"

"Sure," Rhodey says, hugging him again. Tony can hear the smile in his voice when Rhodey adds, "Anything you say."

Tony grumbles a little even as he hugs back, muttering, "You could try to sound at least a _little_ bit like you believe me."

"I do believe you," Rhodey says. He's definitely laughing now, shoulders shaking a little. Tony scowls and gets his fingers on Rhodey's sides to tickle him, earning him that little shriek that Rhodey always pretends he doesn't make. Then Rhodey elbows him back and Tony punches him in the shoulder, and somehow that devolves into an impromptu wrestling match right there on the kitchen floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had the chance to see Spider-Man Homecoming yet (this Sunday, I hope!) so please do **not** post any spoilers in the comments.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony’s bent over soldering a piece of the new suit he’s building when he realizes that he’s being watched. He straightens up, raising a curious eyebrow at Laura, and pushes the goggles that Rhodey insists he wear up onto his forehead. FRIDAY switches the soldering iron off without being asked, and Tony feels a flicker of pride: his baby girl is learning slowly but surely. She’ll never be at JARVIS’s level, but she’s still miles ahead from where she began.

“What’s up?” he asks. Laura doesn’t come down to the workshop very often – usually only to collect her children when they’re all visiting – but he doesn’t mind having her here. She’s always very polite to the ‘bots and the way she smiles when she sees the work that Tony does makes him feel warm inside.

“I thought you might want to go out for dinner tonight with Rhodey and me,” Laura says. “I invited that boyfriend of yours, Peter. And his aunt.”

Tony chokes on the mouthful of cold coffee he’s just taken. “W-what?!”

Laura blinks at him. “Should I not have? Rhodey suggested it. He said that he’d like the chance to get to know Peter’s aunt better.”

Frigging Rhodey. Tony wipes his mouth, trying to pretend he’s not flustered. “Peter’s not my boyfriend. He’s just…” He trials off, because honestly he has zero clue how to finish that sentence right now. Protégé? He’s certainly more experienced than Peter, but not older. Not anymore. Friend? Well, maybe. Now that Peter is getting over his star-struck behavior. But then again, he doesn’t treat Peter the way he treats Rhodey.

“He’s just…” Laura prompts, and Tony realizes that he’s just standing there analyzing his relationship – no, bad word! – his _association_ with Peter. He flushes a little, grabbing a cloth and wiping up the coffee he spit out.

“He’s a teammate,” he says finally, for lack of a better word. Laura knows enough about the Avengers, or what’s left of them, to have guessed Spider-Man’s identity by now. He knows she’s too smart to buy the intern story, because how many interns has Tony Stark ever allowed into his private workshop? Zero. 

“He’s a little young to be a teammate,” she says, but her smile is kind. Not judging. Tony shrugs at her.

“He was going to do it regardless of whether or not I was involved. Christ, when I first found him he was running around in a hoodie and sweatpants. At least this way, he’s fully out-kitted in the best that I have to offer. And he has a team that can back him up if things start to go wrong.” These are the arguments that Tony tells himself to try and convince himself that he’s not ruining Peter’s life. Usually they ring false, but Laura’s nodding as though they make perfect sense.

“So what I’m hearing is that he’s as stubborn as you are.”

“Hey,” Tony complains, but Laura just laughs at him.

“So do you want to come with us?”

Now that Tony’s heart rate is slowing down to an acceptable level, he nods. “Sure. Though I might murder Rhodey.”

Laura slings an arm around his shoulders as they leave the lab. “I promise to be your reliable alibi. I’ll swear to the court that you and I were trying to teach my kids to be as polite as Dummy the whole time.”

Tony snorts with laughter. Laura is so _cool_. He has no idea how she got together with Clint in the first place, just like he has no idea how Clint could’ve left her and the kids behind. If he and Pepper had been able to build the life that Clint and Laura had… but no. Those aren’t thoughts for him to dwell on right now. There’s definitely no chance of reconciliation between him and Pepper now.

Instead, he slants a sideways look at her. “Do I need to come up with an alibi for when you murder your husband?”

Her smile tightens at the corners before vanishing completely, and she lets out a sigh. “No. But I’ve been meaning to ask you if you know a good divorce attorney.”

“I’ll find you the best,” Tony promises. He knows that the divorce won’t have any problems going through. Clint’s a war criminal now, and it’s easy for Laura to prove that he abandoned her and their kids. She’ll probably get everything, including full custody of the kids. But from the pinched look on Laura’s face, she would much rather just have her husband back.

Tony can sympathize. Sometimes he misses the way things were too, with an ache that feels physical in its intensity.

“We haven’t talked much,” Laura continues. “But the couple conversations we’ve had… Clint’s made it clear that he thinks he made the right choice. He keeps asking me to understand, but he never tries to see things from my point of view. We have three children to take care of. Surely they should come first?”

“I – yes,” Tony says, because he didn’t mean to open this door and now it’s awkward.

“Right? But Clint, I don’t know. He’s spent so much time away from us on SHIELD missions. I’m not sure he sees the difference between then and now.” Laura sighs, her grip tightening on Tony. “I haven’t mentioned the divorce to him yet. I know he’ll be upset. But I just can’t live my life with someone who doesn’t put our family first. I think we deserve more than that.”

“You do,” Tony says honestly. It’s the truth, even if it will just be one more reason why Clint will hate him later. The thing is though, Laura’s right. She does deserve more. There’s a reason why Tony’s relationship with Pepper failed, but unlike Clint, Tony can admit that he was the reason. He couldn’t give Pepper what she needed. Apparently Clint can’t, or won’t, give Laura what she needs, either. And adding children into the mix makes things even more complicated.

“I do.” Laura nods determinedly. “So as soon as you can get that number for me…”

“I’ll get right on it. As soon as we come back from supper, I should have something for you,” Tony says. He’ll ask FRIDAY to look while they’re at dinner. He wants someone who is trustworthy, but also someone who doesn’t sympathize with Captain America and the rogue Avengers – those people are rarer than those who don’t or who are neutral, but they’re out there. He also wants someone who will be fair to Laura, and who won’t try to charge her (or rather Tony, since he’ll unquestionably foot the bill for this) an arm and a leg.

“Thanks Tony. I really appreciate it.” She hauls him into a hug, then pushes him away just as fast. “Now go get dressed. Hurry!”

“I’m going,” Tony says, laughing when she swats him on the ass. He heads up to his floor and jumps in the shower for a lightning-quick shampoo and scrub. He hauls on dress pants and a nice shirt while talking to FRIDAY, and is still in conversation with her when Rhodey knocks at the door.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Rhodey calls.

“I shouldn’t even be going. My _boyfriend_?!” Tony demands, yanking the door open.

Rhodey’s expression is pure innocence. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know damn well what I mean, Rhodes. Peter is not my boyfriend and I don’t want you saying anything like that at dinner. As far as Peter is concerned, I’m still his mentor. He doesn’t think of me any differently and our relationship hasn’t changed – definitely not on my part,” he adds, glaring. “I don’t want you making him feel weird, or thinking that I’m perving on him.”

Rhodey stares at him. “Oh my god. You’re serious.”

“What? Of course I’m serious!”

“Tony. Peter’s had a crush on you since the day you met.”

“What?” Tony says again, baffled. “No he hasn’t.”

“Dude,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “You’re so oblivious, it’s amazing.”

“No, I’m not! Peter thinks of me like a – like an older brother.” Tony amends that statement at the last second, not wanting to bring the ‘dad’ word into this. He doesn’t want children and is very comfortable with not having children, adopted or otherwise. He likes kids, but after Howard and with the kind of life he leads, it’s just not feasible.

“Wow,” Rhodey mutters. “That’s… that’s a pretty deep level of denial you have there. You know what, come on. We’re going to be late.”

“It’s not denial. It’s the truth! Peter’s never looked at me like he wants to have sex. I would’ve noticed,” Tony argues, following him down the hallway. He knows what lust and attraction look like. He’s seen it on enough faces over the years. But he’s never once seen Peter look at him like that. Not that he wanted Peter to do that, either. He can remember what it was like at MIT and he developed a crush on a professor who promptly slept with him half a dozen times before breaking it off when she got engaged to her boyfriend. It was a painful learning experience. 

Rhodey stops walking abruptly enough that Tony walks right into the back of him. He turns around, all amusement fading into something serious. “I said Peter has a crush on you, not that he wants to have sex with you. I mean, he’s a teenager so sex has probably crossed his mind once or twice, especially now, but that’s beside the point. There’s a difference between lust and the kind of sex you have when you’re in love. You know that. Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” Tony parrots obediently, even though it’s a lie. He knows that Rhodey believes it’s the truth, but Tony comes from a world where everyone wants something from him. Pepper was the first person he ever slept with who actually wanted a relationship, and Tony couldn’t even sustain that. Life is certainly easier, at any rate, when he knows he’s wanted purely for his money, body, fame or intelligence.

Rhodey eyes him for a few seconds, like he knows Tony is full of bullshit, and finally just sighs. “I feel like this is gonna end in a broken heart.”

“I would never break Peter’s heart!”

“I meant yours, dumbass,” Rhodey says, but his voice is all fond, and he yanks Tony in for a half-hug as the elevator doors finally open and they step in. Tony cuddles into him, still confused. He doesn’t like Peter that way, and he’s already resigned himself to the fact that no one will ever want a long-term relationship with him. When he’s a little older, he’ll be fine with casual dates and the occasional night of sex. Really. 

The elevator doors open again on the guest floor and Laura steps in. Tony’s pressed so close to Rhodey that he can actually feel Rhodey tense and the way his heart starts racing at the sight of her. It’s easy to understand why: Laura looks beautiful in a mauve dress with her hair piled on top of her head. In her heels, she’s considerably taller than Tony, almost of a height to Rhodey, and he pouts for only a moment. Watching Rhodey struck dumb over Laura is too hilarious to waste on pouting.

“Hi Laura. You look lovely,” Tony says when it becomes obvious Rhodey isn’t going to speak, deciding to push his and Rhodey’s talk out of his brain for now. That’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about when he sees Peter again anyway.

Laura smiles. “Thanks Tony. I’m a lucky woman to have such handsome men on my arms tonight.” She gestures at Tony and he steps to the side, letting her move in between them. He still hears the click of Rhodey’s throat as Laura slides her hand into the crook of both Tony’s and Rhodey’s elbow, and Tony has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. So much for Peter being the one with a crush. Yeah right. 

The three of them walk outside of the tower together. Happy is waiting with the car. Laura gets in first. Tony takes the opportunity to smirk at Rhodey. Rhodey glares back at him and mouths something that Tony deliberately chooses not to acknowledge. He wouldn’t do anything – Laura isn’t even divorced yet, never mind ready for dating – but Tony likes the fact that he has something new to tease Rhodey about. Something to keep on the back burner for the next time Rhodey decides to question him about boyfriends.


	10. Chapter 10

The invitation comes from Jim at around 4pm. By 5:30pm, Peter’s had a small nervous breakdown in the shower and then collected himself enough to get dressed in pants and a long-sleeve shirt. He brushes his hair for about ten minutes, trying to make it lay the way he wants it to. It doesn’t work. His hair continues to look as though those bank robbers he captured last night picked him up, turned him upside down and shook him really hard.

“Peter?” Aunt May calls out. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.” She appears at the doorway to his room. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Peter mutters, setting the brush down and giving it up for a lost cause. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, plucking at the hem of her dress. “You look nice too. I haven’t seen you this dressed up for a while.”

“Tony usually eats at nice places,” Peter says. Not that he’s ever joined Tony at any of those nice places. The couple of times they’ve eaten together, it was literally grabbing a hot dog or burger from the nearest diner because Tony hadn’t eaten for like three days and Peter was worried he’d collapse on the way back to the tower.

Aunt May narrows her eyes a little. “Tony, huh?”

“What?”

“I just noticed that ever since he got younger, it’s Tony. Not Mr. Stark.”

Peter flushes a little. “He asked me to call him that,” he mumbles. The temptation to babble is strong, but he hauls it back and clamps down on the words. Aunt May doesn’t need to know that Peter practiced saying Tony’s name for _hours_ in the privacy of his bedroom, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it while looking Tony in the face. She doesn’t need to know that it’s easier now that Tony is younger, because – while he was learning to see past the masks before - it’s way easier now for Peter to see past ‘Mr. Stark’ and into Tony.

“I see.”

Her clipped tone makes Peter look up quickly. He catches the thin line of her mouth and immediately frowns. “Aunt May, promise me that you’ll be kind. I know you don’t like him much –”

“I never said that.”

“ – but he’s going through a really hard time and he doesn’t need anyone else hating him. And you didn’t, but I can tell by the look on your face when you watch television and Tony comes on.” Peter’s never said anything about it in the past, mostly because Aunt May agreed that he could do the ‘internship’ without much argument. But this is different. He’s seen how people react to Tony sometimes. He’s seen what it can do to Tony. He doesn’t want Aunt May to be one of those people.

“I don’t hate him,” Aunt May says. “I’m reserving judgment. Now unless you want us to be late, we need to go.”

“Right, right.” Peter grabs his phone and they leave the apartment in a hurry. His heart races the whole way there. He doesn’t actually calm down until they’re walking through the restaurant – a small pizzeria, all but hidden behind a clothing store – and he catches sight of Tony. Only then does some of the tension start to fall away, and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Hey kid,” Tony says, looking up with a grin. Peter smiles back automatically because this is a real grin, not one of those awful, plastic-y smiles that Tony so frequently plasters on.

“Hi Tony. Hi Jim. Mrs. Barton. This is my aunt, May Parker.”

“Please call me Laura, Peter.” Laura and Jim stand up and there are handshakes all around while Peter slides into the chair beside Tony. Tony winks at him and again, Peter can’t help a smile. He’ll never admit it out loud, but the world feels a little steadier when Tony Stark is around.

The adults sit and a waitress comes over to take their drink orders. Laura, Jim and Aunt May all order a glass of wine. Tony, after a beat of hesitation, asks for water. Peter glances at him, wondering if this is weird. It has to be. But if it is, Tony doesn’t let on. He just smiles at Aunt May and compliments her dress, which starts Laura and Aunt May off on a conversation about where to get the best bargains in the city.

“Hey,” Tony whispers at him. “Sorry for the last minute dinner. Rhodey’s an ass sometimes.”

“It’s fine. I think Aunt May was glad for the chance to get out of the house,” Peter whispers back. And, you know, Peter would never pass up the chance to see Tony dressed up. The sight of Tony Stark in a suit or tuxedo never fails to make Peter a little weak at the knees, and apparently that has not changed now that Tony is younger. 

Tony leans towards him, and Peter obediently leans closer as well, even though, with his advanced senses, he can hear Tony no problem. “How’s the new equipment working out?”

“It’s great. I’ve noticed a glitch with Karen, though. Last time I tried to switch web shooters mid-flight, she –”

“So Tony,” Aunt May says suddenly, and they both jump and straighten up and then try to pretend like they weren’t talking about things they weren’t supposed to be talking about. 

“Yes?” Tony says, all smiles. But there it is. The edge of uncertainty, of unease, covered by a plastic smile. Peter’s pretty sure that someone who doesn’t know Tony well wouldn’t recognize it, but he does. Tony is uncomfortable with Aunt May’s scrutinizing stare. A surge of something protective swells in his chest and he narrows his eyes at Aunt May in silent warning, but of course she completely ignores him. 

“Will Peter be continuing his internship with Stark Industries now that you’re younger?” she asks bluntly. “I have to wonder how the scientific community, not to mention your shareholders, are going to handle having a sixteen-year-old at the helm of one of the world’s foremost companies. I’m thinking of Peter’s future here. I don’t want him to be tied to a sinking ship.”

“Aunt May!” Peter bursts out, mortified and pissed off in turn. 

“It’s a fair question,” Tony says. Under the table, a knee bumps against Peter’s just once before shifting away again. Peter sets his jaw and shifts in his chair – not fidgeting, though that’s probably how it looks, but adjusting his position so that he can press his leg from knee to foot against Tony’s in a show of support. Tony shoots him a wide-eyed look of surprise, but Aunt May is already speaking.

“I’m glad you think so. Based on the press I’ve been seeing about Stark Industries lately, I’m not confident that the company will have a positive reputation much longer.”

Peter is like two seconds away from yelling, but Tony just clears his throat and says, in a very reasonable tone, “Actually, Pepper – that’s Pepper Potts, the company’s CEO – is handling things until I’m of age. But I would like to point out that I had to take on Stark Industries when I was only fifteen because that’s when my parents died. Sure I had the help of Obadiah Stane –” and something flickers in Tony’s eyes when he sees that name, and it’s not good “- but I like to think that I had a hand in guiding S.I. along the correct route.

“You’re right when you say that some people doubt me. But I’ve been dealing with that my whole life, and rising to the occasion every damn time. S.I. suffered a lot of blowback after the so-called civil war, but we’re dealing with that as best we can. Getting slammed in the press has very little to do with the quality of my inventions or the things we introduce to the market, and I’m confident our shareholders know that. Furthermore, Pepper’s hired the best public relations team in the business and they’re always working hard to turn our image around and help mitigate the mistakes that have been made.”

‘The mistakes _I_ made’ is what Peter hears, clear as a bell, and he bites his lip against the urge to tell Tony otherwise when Aunt May is staring at him so intently.

“And now?” is the only thing she says.

Tony shrugs. “Like I said, I’ve dealt with doubt. It’s nothing new. My brain hasn’t changed in any way that matters, and very shortly people are going to understand that. I can still create something ten times better than the competition in a fraction of the time. S.I. is going to remain a staple in every community, including the scientific one. I would very much appreciate it if you’d continue to allow Peter to intern with us. He’s providing a lot of value and his contributions would be missed. And I like to think that we’re giving him invaluable experience in return.”

Peter swallows the slightly hysterical laugh that’s threatening to bubble out and glances at Aunt May. “I like what I do for Stark Industries. I don’t want to quit.” What he means, of course, is that he’ll die before he quits. Or run away from home. There is absolutely _no way in hell_ Peter is abandoning Tony now, not after seeing what the betrayal of the other Avengers has done.

Aunt May glances back and forth between them. “I see,” she says, and for a terrifying moment Peter thinks she really does. “I appreciate you answering my questions. I hope you can understand that I’m just trying to look out for Peter as best I can.”

“Of course,” Tony says. “Peter’s a good kid who deserves the best.” He stands up. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

They all nod. The second Tony is gone, disappearing behind two waiters, Peter whips his head around to glare at his aunt. “What was that about?”

“Peter, you know –”

“Don’t,” Peter says, because he doesn’t want to hear her put Tony down again in front of Jim and Laura. This is embarrassing enough. He shoves to his feet, nearly upsetting the water glasses, and walks away from the table. It might be a bad idea to leave the three adults alone, but he’s more concerned about finding Tony. Aunt May’s questions sounded an awful lot like the criticism that’s been thrown in Tony’s face since the civil war more times than Peter can count.

He heads towards the back of the restaurants, dodging waiters and patrons alike, and finds his way to the bathroom. He pokes his head into the men's room and immediately sees Tony standing in front of the sinks. Tony's bent over and the water is on like he's washing his hands, but he doesn't have his hands in the water. And his shoulders are shaking. Over the sound of the water, Peter registers low, raspy gasps.

It's not hard to recognize the sound of a panic attack. Peter hesitates for only a few seconds before he makes his decision; he steps into the room, closing the door and flipping the lock to insure some privacy. He steps closer and says, "Tony?"

Tony startles, jerking upright. His face is white except for his flushed cheeks, and his eyes are a little unfocused. But he forces a smile upon seeing Peter. "Hey. I was just using the bathroom."

"Are you okay?"

"It takes more than a few questions to rattle me, Pete," Tony says, turning the water off. He starts to reach out towards the paper towels and nearly tips over; his hip slams hard into the sink and Peter... well, Peter isn't even aware of crossing the distance between them. Somehow he's just there, catching Tony around the shoulders in a gentle grip, pressing in close to better steady Tony.

"You don't have to pretend to be okay all the time," Peter says to the top of Tony's head. Tony is frozen, hands hanging down by his sides. "I'm here for you, Tony. I'm not going anywhere." He feels the shudder that runs through Tony at those words and dares to move, sliding his hands across Tony's back to pull him into a hug. Tony doesn't hug him back, but he doesn't try to jerk free either. Gradually, his shaky breathing starts to even out and he relaxes a little.

Peter considers it a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no update next week, as I'll be on vacation at my parent's house.


	11. Chapter 11

Peter’s arms are strong and warm, wrapped tightly around Tony’s shoulders, hands pressed flat against Tony’s lower back. Tony’s not sure why Peter’s strength surprises him after all this time; he’s seen, over and over, how strong Peter is and what he’s capable of, though this is the first time he’s experiencing it firsthand. He forces himself to keep his hands at his sides instead of grabbing Peter back in a desperate hug, which is what he _really_ wants to do.

But between Howard’s voice at the back of his head ranting about how hugs are for wusses, and the lingering though that any physical contact between him and Peter is inappropriate, Tony’s not ready for that. Even though he has to admit that the hug _is_ helping, slowing his heart rate and breathing until Tony stops feeling like he’s going to pass out from lack of air. It also helps that Peter is wonderfully steady to lean against when Tony’s legs are like butter, taking Tony’s weight without pause.

He tips his chin up slightly, resting his forehead against Peter’s shoulder. Peter’s going to be tall someday, he notes hazily. Unlike Tony. Another bone of contention with his father: though Howard was not a tall man either, he 'd hated how short Tony was. It was part of the reason that Tony used to wear lifts in his shoes all the time. He hasn’t had his new shoes modified – yet. There’s always the small hope that this time around, he’ll magically grow taller.

Tony wants to say something to break the silence, but words are failing him. How does he respond to a promise to stay with him? What do you say when someone says that you don’t have to be okay all the time? It sounds callous to say “actually, I do have to pretend because I’m either constantly surrounded by assholes or people I don’t know if I can trust”, even though it’s the truth.

(And he does trust Peter, against his better judgment, because the only way Peter would ever betray someone is if he didn’t know he was doing it. But the point is that Tony shouldn’t _need_ to trust Peter. He shouldn’t be standing here leaning on Peter, keeping himself from clinging to Peter through sheer willpower. He’s still the adult in this situation, even if Tony’s lost all concept of what being an ‘adult’ even means.)

What he means to say is something cool and suave. Instead, what comes out is a shaky, “You shouldn’t promise things like that. Someone might think you were serious.”

“I _am_ serious,” Peter says. His grip tightens ever so slightly. “I’m not going anywhere. As long as you want me here, Tony, I’ll be with you.”

Jesus. It feels like Tony’s heart is stuttering, but the arc reactor’s long gone. He squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that Peter is seventeen and has zero idea of what he’s really saying. Kids don’t understand what forever means. It’s just hard to remember that when Peter sounds so convincing. Hard not to let himself believe, even for a minute, that maybe this won’t be like the Avengers again, that maybe Peter really will make the worst choice of his life and _just stay_ …

“And I’m sorry about Aunt May,” Peter goes on. “I had no idea she was going to ask you those questions.” He sounds upset on Tony’s behalf, like he might go home and yell at his aunt or something ridiculous like that, and it’s the thought of Peter doing something stupid just because of Tony that gets Tony to straighten up.

“I said it’s okay and I meant it. May is right to ask that stuff, Pete. For all she knows, I’m taking advantage of you.” Tony quells the words ‘you should be grateful you have someone who actually cares’ and forces himself to take a step back, putting a precious little amount of space between them. Immediately he wants to lay his head back on Peter’s shoulder.

“I still don’t like it.” Peter lets go reluctantly, his hands sliding down Tony’s arms, mouth set in a pout. 

“She was actually very polite about it,” Tony points out. He’s not even sure what set off the embarrassing panic attack – although May certainly did make him feel like a child who was doing something wrong, which was probably a huge part of it. Had May really torn into him the way she could have, it’s likely Tony would’ve had a breakdown right there at the dinner table. And that would’ve been utterly mortifying.

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“You should get used to it,” Tony says, very seriously. “That’s part of my life. People thought they had the right to cast judgment on me even before I became a superhero, just because I was smart and rich and famous. It’s even worse now that I’m trying to be a hero, and extra worse because of this de-aging crap.” He goes quiet for a second, thinking about all the news releases since the civil war, and then sighs. This is one reason he dreads the thought of seeing the Avengers again. Rogers is not going to be kind. None of them will.

“Not trying.”

Tony blinks. “What?”

“You’re not trying to be a hero,” Peter clarifies. “You _are_ a hero.”

Christ, if Tony could have even an ounce of the belief in himself that Peter has… He shakes his head. “Whatever. The point is, people who don’t even know me will want to ask the same questions that May did. At least she had a good reason to be asking. It will be part of your life too, you know, if you ever go public with your identity. And it’ll be a hundred times worse because then they’re attacking you, not Spider-Man.”

Peter sucks on his bottom lip. “Yeah, I know. It’s one of the reasons I’m keeping quiet,” he admits. “I see the kind of scrutiny that you and the others go through and I don’t think I could handle it.”

“You learn coping mechanisms,” Tony says. Some of them, like alcohol and drugs, are worse than others, and he’s determined to keep Peter away from them. “Honestly, most of the time it doesn’t bother me. What do I care what some stranger thinks?” He sighs again and looks in the mirror, grimacing at the young, pale face staring back. “It’s just… harder right now. Everyone is doubting me and I already have a lot of my own doubt about whether or not I can pull this off.”

“I think you can, for what that’s worth,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair. It sticks up in adorable little tufts. Tony immediately wants to run his own hands through Peter’s hair, see if he can make the tufts settle down. He sticks his hands in his pockets instead.

“I have to. I don’t have a choice. In a way, May did me a favor. At least my first time being grilled wasn’t in front of cameras,” Tony says, forcing a bleak smile. He can’t always have Pepper or Rhodey with him, either. Reporters aren’t stupid. They’ll watch and wait and bide their time until they catch Tony alone, and then they’ll surround him and throws questions left, right and center. He has to be able to answer questions about this calmly and rationally. May’s interrogation, though meek compared to what Tony will probably have to face eventually, wasn’t a bad way to boost his confidence. At least he only freaked out afterwards.

He looks up at Peter. “We should get back out there. I’m sure that your aunt thinks I’m seducing you back here.” He means it as a light-hearted comment, a ‘oh how funny because that would never be a thing that happens’ sort of thing, but Peter chokes a little and then flushes bright red. Tony stares at him in shock.

Before Tony can say anything – and honestly, he’s not even sure what he could say, because now part of him is screaming that Rhodey was right and the other part is wholly convinced that can’t possibly be true and Peter is blushing for some other reason – the unmistakable sound of an explosion rips through the air and the building shakes. Tony loses his balance and falls hard on his ass with a yelp that is swallowed up by the sound of screaming.

“What was that?” Peter says. His voice is low; he’s been in enough of these situations to know that yelling and drawing attention is not the way to go.

“I’m guessing that whatever it was, it’s not good,” Tony answers. He hasn’t got a suit. Son of a bitch. He’s locking himself up in the workshop and doing nothing but his suit for the next three days as soon as he gets home. 

He turns to Peter but pauses when he sees that Peter is removing his shirt. The sight of the red-and-blue Spider-Man costume gets a raised eyebrow from Tony, but what can he say? Frankly speaking, Peter is smart to wear his suit underneath his regular clothing so that he doesn’t have to a) fight without it, or b) waste time pulling it on. It was a lesson that Rogers, Romanov and Barton could’ve learned much earlier on. But he wishes, more than anything, that Peter wasn’t wearing it.

“You can’t go out there,” Tony says finally. It's cliché, but it works. 

Peter shoots him an incredulous look. “Do you not hear the screaming?” he says, pulling his mask over his face. The eyes glow a little and readjust as the P.I. in the suit, Karen, comes online.

“But I don’t have a suit! You can’t go out there alone!”

“I’m an Avenger now,” Peter says, and now the voice modulator has kicked in, deepening and muffling his voice to make it sound different. Even through the mask Tony can tell he’s grinning. He flicks Tony a salute and then darts over to door, has it open and is through it before Tony can react.

“Peter!” Tony yells after him, but of course it falls on deaf ears. He swears under his breath and hastily gathers up Peter’s clothing – the last thing they need is someone stumbling into the bathroom to hide and miraculously associating the clothing with the kid who’d been with Tony Stark – and charges out of the bathroom after him.

Almost immediately he runs right into Rhodey, who grabs Tony around the shoulders with a wild look in his eyes. “Tones, thank god. I heard the explosion –”

“And you know that wherever I am, explosions are sure to follow,” Tony says, aiming for a joke. They both flinch at the sound of another explosion, though smaller. “Rhodey, you should go.”

“Not without you.”

“I have to help P - Spider-Man,” Tony says, amending the name at the last second, because they literally just gone done discussing secret identities. “I’m not leaving him here alone. I can be a distraction.”

“Then I’m not going either,” Rhodey says.

“You have to. Get Laura and May out of here. Get as many people out of here, for that matter. And cover for Peter. Tell May that he took off running in another director, or that he’s hiding, or whatever she’ll believe.” 

“Tones, there’s no way –” Rhodey cuts off as a hysterical waitress scrambles into the hall and straight into them. Rhodey catches her by the shoulders and she clings to him, shrieking. Tony shoves the balled-up clothing into the nearest corner and takes a page out of Peter’s book, taking off before Rhodey can stop him. Rhodey yells after him, of course, but he doesn’t follow, which is a plus in Tony’s book.

He heads for the front of the restaurant, heart pounding in his ears. He hears the sounds of battle before he sees it and skids around a corner just in time to see a gigantic chipmunk grabbing for and missing Spider-Man by a hair. Spider-Man scoots underneath a paw, then leaps to his feet and shoots a ton of webbing into the chipmunk’s face. It squeals in rage, tiny paws batting at its face, tearing at the webbing until it comes apart in shreds.

Tony looks around hastily and spots a tray full of clean silverware. The waiter must've been in the middle of wrapping them up in napkins. He grab the tray and gives it a shove. It tips over, creating a clatter. The chipmunk spins in Tony's direction, squeaking, and Tony freezes as two huge beady eyes lock onto him. Fortunately Spider-Man uses the advantage, coming up behind it and webbing its feet. The chipmunk tips over, squeaking in renewed outrage. It thrashes around. Spider-Man hurriedly webs its front paws as well. 

"What the hell?" he says, sounding at once stunned and bewildered.

"Welcome to being an Avenger," Tony tells him, right before he hears the gunshot. A bolt of pain slices through his shoulder. Spider-Man screeches his name. 

"Ah, Tony, Tony, Tony," a familiar voice, albeit one Tony hasn't heard in years, murmurs right behind him. "It's good that you're teaching the new generation, seeing as you won't be around for very long."

Tony turns, pressing his hand to his shoulder. "Go fuck yourself."

Tiberius just grins at him. "I could, but this is much more fun. I've been waiting for this for a _long_ time."


	12. Chapter 12

Tiberius Stone. It’s been close to fifteen years since Tony last saw the man, which wasn’t nearly long enough in Tony’s opinion. They met while they were both at MIT. Tony was young and stupid, and Tiberius was just old enough and smart enough to know how to take advantage. Seeing him now makes Tony deeply uncomfortable, though he hastily schools his face into a blank expression.

“You’ve been waiting for this moment?” he says, gesturing between them. His shoulder throbs with pain when he lets go, but he doesn’t show it. “You have a vivid imagination. Or you had something to do with me being de-aged. I’m guessing it’s the former, since you’re not really smart enough for the latter.”

The smile on Tiberius’s face tightens. “Still as mouthy as ever. I’m going to look forward to shutting you up, Tony.”

“What the fuck makes you think I’m going anywhere with you, Stone?” Tony says, amazed. “I told you I never wanted to see you again and I meant it. Restraining orders don’t magically disappear just because I’m younger. Also, you shot me so there’s that.” He flexes the fingers of his hand. It definitely makes his shoulder hurt more, but he’s still got some movement.

“Ah yes, that restraining order. That was bullshit and you know it. You paid a judge to grant you that.”

“Hardly,” Tony says flatly. Money hadn’t even entered the equation, though it should have. He hadn’t even wanted the stupid restraining order at the time, too caught up in ‘he says he loves me, Rhodey, he didn’t mean it’. Rhodey was the one who insisted on it. Time, and some fresh perspective, gave Tony the ability to realize that yeah, Tiberius was an asshole who didn’t deserve the time of the day. 

Behind him, Spider-Man lets out a strangled yelp. Tony spins around just in time to see the kid go down hard, twitching. There’s a man standing right behind him holding a tazer, and of course the prongs are attached to Spider-Man’s legs. The suit should be impenetrable to something like that, and a normal tazer doesn’t work on Peter anyway, which means Tiberius hired someone to deliberately create a tazer that _would_ work and that means Tony is in some serious trouble.

“Spider-Man,” he says, trying not to let too much concern creep into his tone. Everyone knows Spider-Man is working closely with Iron Man, but that’s _all_ they know. He doesn’t want to do anything that’ll draw too much attention to Spider-Man, because if Tiberius figures out who Spider-Man is –

“Don’t!” Tony shouts when the man with the tazer goes to yank off Spider-Man’s mask. The man actually stops, but looks up at Tony with a smirk. Tony glares at him, wishing he could kick the idiot right in his stupid face. He stiffens when Tiberius comes up right behind him, pressed far too close for comfort, chest and hips one hot line against Tony’s back.

“Come with me quietly and peacefully, and we won’t look,” Tiberius says. He puts a hand on Tony’s injured shoulder. Tony sucks in a breath when Tiberius’s grip tightens, fingers digging into his wound. “We’ll leave him here for whoever wanders by. He might actually have a chance. But if you resist or try to put up a fuss, I’ll pull his mask off and cut his throat in front of you.”

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Tony promises, his stomach lurching at the thought of kind, funny Peter being dead. Peter’s seventeen. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. Tony would happily kill himself first. 

Tiberius just laughs. “As though you’d have the strength to kill me now Tony, really.” He tightens his grip on Tony’s wound until Tony has to bite his lip to keep from crying out in pain. “You’ve got twenty seconds to make your decision before I make it for you. Personally, I’m leaning towards shooting him through the head and kidnapping you anyway.” He lifts his gun over Tony’s shoulder, aiming it at Spider-Man’s head.

Tony elbows him hard. Tiberius grunts, arm jerking. Then, recovering, he slams the gun into the side of Tony’s face. The world goes hot in an explosion of pain and Tony’s legs give out. He hits the ground, vaguely aware of Tiberius cursing up a storm somewhere in front of him. The other man says something and Tiberius yells at him; there’s the sound of a gunshot and Tony jerks, flailing, because _Peter_ -

But no. Through the blood, he makes out the fact that Tiberius is pointing his gun at the wall and not at Spider-Man or Tony. The other man walks away from Spider-Man and over to Tony, grabbing Tony’s arm and hefting him up and over his shoulder. Tony can’t help the pained whimper that slips out at the jolt from moving. If either man hears it, they ignore him. But they also ignore Spider-Man, leaving him on the ground unconscious, and Tony worries all the way out the back door that Tiberius will turn at the last minute and put a bullet through Spider-Man’s head.

He doesn’t, though. Which is strange. Tiberius doesn’t like competition. He always wanted to be the sole focus of Tony’s attention. It was one of the reasons that Rhodey didn’t like him, though far from the only reason. But maybe, Tony thinks hazily, Spider-Man just isn’t important. That’s always been Tiberius Stone’s biggest fault, after all. He only pays attention to the people that he thinks matter, and his ego is so inflated that’s a pretty short list.

It’s a dumb move. Any cameras in the restaurant were probably destroyed by the explosions. But Spider-Man will be able to describe Tiberius to Rhodey, and Rhodey will flip his shit when he finds out who kidnapped Tony this time. Because Rhodey will know why. And then Rhodey won’t stop until he finds Tony. That’s a comforting thought. Tony holds onto it until he passes out.

When he wakes up, god knows how many hours later, his first thought is that he is so _fucking tired of this shit_. Being kidnapped is not fun, and being kidnapped by your psychotic ex and waking up to find that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear is even less fun. He spends several seconds being pathetically grateful for the fact that a) he’s not tied to the bed, and b) he’s not completely naked.

His shoulder and face both hurt like a bitch. There’s no mirror, but his left eye is nearly swollen shut and his face is caked with blood, so it’s probably not a pretty sight. When he carefully probes at his forehead, he finds a large cut by his temple. The area is sensitive and throbs when he touches it; he suspects he has a large, lovely bruise now that probably stretches from his temple down to his chin, because Tiberius did nothing to pull that blow. 

“Destructive asshole,” Tony says under his breath, checking out his shoulder. Tiberius just clipped him, it seems, so at least he doesn’t have to try digging a bullet out. He settles for tearing up the sheet he was laying on and wrapping it securely around his shoulder. He ties another around his head, just in case the cut opens up again – it’s hard to fight with blood dripping into your eyes.

Then he looks around the room. It’s pretty standard as far as cells go, if more comfortable than most. Tony’s laying on a bed, for one thing, instead of the floor. There are no windows, and the door looks like it’s made of reinforced steel. No breaking his way out through that. The rest of the room is pretty bare. There’s another door which looks like it leads to a toilet, but there’s no sink and no mirror. At least they’re not expecting him to go in a bucket.

Cautiously, Tony scoots to the edge of the bed and puts his feet down. As soon as he stands up, he discovers something else that’s very inconvenient about being de-aged. His old(er) body had a pretty high tolerance for pain if Tony did say so himself. Even before the arc reactor, he’d had his fair shares of bumps, bruises, burns and broken bones. After Afghanistan, after having to deal with the arc reactor every day, he had zero problem walking on a broken leg and could ignore broken ribs for quite a while before Bruce caught on.

Now, though. The pain that swamps through him actually makes him feel dizzy. His vision darkens and his legs go weak; he sits down hard before he can fall down and just gasps quietly for a couple of minutes at least, trying to convince his body that no, it does not want to throw up at the moment. The fact that he can’t even stand up is sickening in itself. Howard would be horrified, no doubt.

“Come on,” Tony hisses at himself, aware that he’s probably being monitored, so anything he says or does is being watched. “Just… focus, Stark. You’ve done this a hundred times. Pretend it’s the night after a big party and you’re hung over and Pepper’s just around the corner.”

Pepper. God, he wishes Pepper were here. Tiberius would be no match for Pepper when she’s on the warpath. She would stick her heel where the sun doesn’t shine and make Tiberius regret being born. Or Laura. Laura can be pretty wrathful too, when she wants to be. Tony’s seen her yelling at Cooper for pushing Lila out of the tractor. Or Rhodey… or Peter… or _anyone_.

Or scratch that. Tony doesn’t wish they were here. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. He looks up as the door opens and Tiberius swaggers on, a big smirk on his face. The hair on the back of Tony’s neck stands up. He’s smart enough to know that this isn’t like the other times he’s been kidnapped. Those people wanted one of two things: his money by way of random demand, or for Tony to build them something.

Tiberius has lots of money. He also has no need for Tony to build weapons; he has a very successful company that sells medical equipment to hospitals. So that means there’s only one thing that Tiberius wants, and the idea of it sends chills down Tony’s spine. He doesn’t want to show fear, but he also can’t help edging away from Tiberius. 

“Feeling good?” Tiberius asks, faking a look of concern. “You were unconscious for over twelve hours. I was starting to think I might’ve done you some actual damage.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Tony says bluntly. “Last time I saw you, you punched me in the face. You didn’t care about doing permanent damage then.”

“That was different. You weren’t nearly as pretty as you are now.” 

Ugh. Tony’s skin crawls. “Don’t call me that. Don’t even let your mind go there. It’s never going to happen.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it the first time around,” Tiberius points out.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t know any better.”

“Really? What, you think you deserve better?” Tiberius raises an eyebrow. Just as quickly, his smile is gone, replaced by a deep rage. “I was so fucking good to you, you little slut. I was better than you deserved. Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that you think anyone else would want you? That you think anyone else would treat you differently? You’re an asshole, Tony. You’re a _waste of time_. No one really wants you around. They just put up with you because they have to.”

Tony swallows hard. That’s the thing about Tiberius. He always know exactly where to strike to make the most impact. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know? You were always shit at reading people. I bet everyone you put up with hates you just as much as Captain America.” Tiberius smirks again, somehow still seeing the flinch Tony tries to hide. “And you just go around completely oblivious to it all, thinking that there are people out there who really want you or care about you. That’s adorable. I’m the best you’re ever going to get. You’re lucky that I think you’re sexy, or I’d put a bullet in your head and do the whole world a favor.”

Tony doesn’t look at him. His hands shakes where he clenches them into fists. “Fuck you.”

“It’s going to be the other way around,” Tiberius vows. “Or I’ll stop wasting my time on you. You’re only good for one thing, Tony. That’s all you’ve _ever_ been good for.” He leers at Tony, licking his lips to make his point. “You should be grateful I still want you.”

He turns on his heel and walks out, the heavy door slamming behind him. Tony just pulls his knees up against his chest and tries to breathe.


	13. Chapter 13

“Spider-Man. Hey, Spider-Man!”

Peter processes the sound of an unfamiliar voice before the pain, but one is right on the heels of the other. He bites back a groan and opens his eyes, belatedly realizing that he’s wearing the suit and that he’s flat on his back in the middle of a burned-out restaurant. His first thought is of Tony, and he lurches upright to look around frantically. But of course Tony’s gone. 

“You better get outta here.”

“What?” Peter says hazily, turning back to face the woman who woke him up. A firefighter, he realizes, judging from her uniform. 

“The police are outside. My captain stopped them from entering because the building is unstable, but I’m guessing they’re gonna have some questions you don’t want to answer.”

“Right. Shit. Thank you.” He scrambles to his feet and nearly pitches forward onto his face, saved only by the firefighter grabbing his arm. Peter flushes beneath the mask and mutters a thanks; he hasn’t felt this uncoordinated since he shot up three inches in the span of a couple months. It’s the unpleasant aftereffects of the taser, he’s guessing, and probably from hitting his head when he fell to the floor, but he doesn’t have the time to be slow.

He heads for the back of the restaurant, noticing that the firefighters studiously look away like they don’t know he’s there, and shoots a web at the top of the nearest building. His arms are shaking a little, so he only goes as far as the next block before stopping on a rooftop. He sits down on the ground and digs his phone out of the special pocket Tony made for it. He’s got fifteen missed calls, a dozen texts and three voicemails. Every single one is from Aunt May.

He still calls Jim first.

“Hello?” Jim says, sounding only a little frantic.

“Tony’s been kidnapped,” Peter blurts out, voice catching. “There was, there was some gross guy who tasered me and I couldn’t stop him –”

“Calm down,” Jim orders. “Take a couple deep breaths.” In the background, Peter hears voices asking questions. One of them is definitely Aunt May. “Tell me what happened. Slowly.”

So Peter does, recounting the giant chipmunk – how is this his life? Honestly – and the fact that Peter had been well on his way to beating said chipmunk’s furry ass until someone had come up behind him and tasered him. He actually doesn’t remember a whole lot of the ensuing conversation, but the image of that guy with a gun to Tony’s head is burned into his brain. A swell of protectiveness mingled with anger burns through Peter every time he thinks about it.

“This is very important, Peter. Do you remember the name of the person?”

Peter closes his eyes and tries to think. He remembers Tony’s voice. He can remember hearing fear in it, even though Tony was so clearly striving for nonchalance. “I think – he might have said the name Stone?”

“ _Tiberius Stone_?!” Jim snarls. Actually snarls. “That motherfucking son of a _bitch_ -”

There’s a history here obviously, and Peter doesn’t think he’s going to like hearing about it. He gets to his feet, wavering only a little. “I’ll meet you back at the tower.”

“Do that,” Jim says, words clipped, and hangs up on him.

“Karen,” Peter says, moving to the edge of the room.

“Yes, Peter?” she says immediately, and the sound of her voice is enough to take the edge off. Karen is nowhere near FRIDAY’s level of intelligence, but she’s just for Peter. A valuable gift that some people would kill to have, all wrapped up in a red and blue suit, hand-delivered by Ton Stark himself. How many people would do that for some stupid kid from Queens?

A lump forms in Peter’s throat. He swallows it down. “I need the closest possible route to Stark Tower.”

“Calculating,” Karen says as Peter lets out a string of web.

He webs back to the tower, which only takes about fifteen minutes. It’s fourteen minutes too long by Peter’s estimation, yet he still gets there before Jim does. He takes the opportunity to remove his suit and stow it away in the back of Tony’s closet. Then he borrows a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt – from when Tony was an adult, because Tony’s new jeans are at least a couple inches too short.

In the process, he finds two puncture wounds on the back of his left thigh. The skin around them is red and inflamed and painful to the touch. Peter scowls at them and drags the jeans up around his waist, knowing that they’ll heal quickly enough. But he won’t make the mistake of letting someone come up behind him ever again, nor will he ever let someone get close enough to taser him. And next time, he won’t let Tony get kidnapped.

Jim, Laura and Aunt May come in just as Peter is buckling his belt. Aunt May sprints over to him, frantic. Peter endures the hug for like five seconds before he squirms free; he doesn’t have time for this right now. Not when Jim’s reaction indicated that there is something very wrong.

“Peter,” Aunt May says. “Are you sure you’re okay? I was so worried about you.”

“I’m fine – Jim, I need to talk to you – excuse me.” 

“Peter!” she exclaims at his back, but Peter’s already shutting the door of Tony’s bedroom behind him and Jim.

“Who the hell is Tiberius Stone?” he says.

“FRIDAY, make sure no one can hear us,” Jim orders. Then, looking at Peter, he adds grimly, “Tiberius Stone is an old ex-boyfriend of Tony’s. They dated for a while when Tony was at MIT. He’s an abusive asshole who was obsessed with Tony, and he was pissed when Tony finally kicked his ass out. Tony got a restraining order against him.”

Peter’s stomach sinks lower with every word. “Do you think he’ll kill Tony?”

“No, worse.”

Worse. Peter’s brain happily fills in all the ways in which abuse can be worse. He thinks he might be sick.

“I haven’t seen him sniffing around Tony in years. He lost interest after Tony seized control of Stark Industries and started hanging around Obadiah Stane more. I guess he must’ve changed his tune after seeing Tony de-aged.” Jim visibly grinds his teeth. “That fucking pervert. He only wants Tony for one thing.”

Oh god. “What can we do?” Peter asks, proud of the way that his voice doesn’t shake. He’s never felt this unique brand of rage before. He’s pretty sure that if Stone lays a single unwanted finger on Tony, Peter is going to tear him apart with his bare hands – if there’s anything left once Jim gets a hold of him, that is.

Jim holds up a finger, already dialing his phone. “Pepper, it’s me. We have an emergency,” he says into it. “Tiberius Stone has Tony.”

“ _What_?!” Pepper shrieks.

“FRIDAY, get Vision here immediately,” Jim barks at the ceiling, then walks away from Peter. He’s muttering into the phone, probably filling Pepper in, and Peter does not envy Tiberius Stone at the moment. 

He paces back and forth while Jim and Pepper talk, hating this feeling of helplessness. He wants to do something, but what? He can’t handle being around Aunt May right now – thankfully, FRIDAY informs him that Laura has taken Aunt May to the guest floor and is successfully distracting her – but there’s no one for Peter to reach out to. He knows Tony’s been in talks with some other superheroes to join the Avengers, but he’s not sure who. And it’s far too easy to imagine calling the wrong person.

“FRIDAY, is there any way you can trace Tony?” he asks finally.

“I’ve been trying to track his cell phone, but the hardware isn’t emitting a signal. It may have been destroyed,” FRIDAY says. “Boss used to have two tracking chips embedded in him, but they were both obliterated when he was de-aged and Boss hasn’t replaced them yet.”

Peter pauses at that. “ _Embedded_ in him?”

“Yes.” A holographic screen opens up in front of Peter. It’s of Tony’s (adult) body. Two spots are glowing green on it: one near Tony’s right hip, and the other up by his left shoulder blade. “Boss inserted these two chips post Afghanistan so that JARVIS would always be able to find him if necessary. There was also a tracking chip that was G.P.S. enabled inside the arc reactor.”

That’s both ingenious and creepy. “Did he have any other tracking chips?”

“My data indicates that there was one chip in Boss’s chest before Afghanistan, but it was removed and destroyed during the operation that saved Boss’s life. That’s why Boss inserted two separate chips last time, in two separate locations. He claimed that most people would only find one chip and stop looking.”

And there would be at least one in all of the Iron Man armors, but Tony wasn’t wearing the armor. Peter paces a little bit more, trying to remember what technology Tony was wearing. Though he’s not sure it really matters, since Stone probably took away or outright destroyed whatever Tony had with him. Everyone in the world knows that giving Tony Stark access to technology is a death sentence.

“Oh,” FRIDAY says.

That one syllable catches Peter’s attention immediately. “Oh? Oh what?”

“I went back further into Boss’s records,” FRIDAY says. “I found handwritten records that were scanned into the system. They were written by Howard Stark.”

“What do they say?” Peter demands.

“It seems that Stark embedded a tracking chip into the sole of Boss’s right foot when he was five years old. This was after Boss had been kidnapped four times,” FRIDAY adds, and Peter stares at the ceiling in disbelief. _Four times_?! “Only Stark, Edwin Jarvis and Peggy Carter were aware of the chip. According to these records, Stark used the tracking chip to find Boss on two separate occasions after that. The technology is old and out-dated, but since it was installed way before Boss was de-aged…”

Peter stares at the holographic screen with renewed intensity. “Is it still working, FRIDAY?”

“Calibrating,” FRIDAY says, and it’s kind of amazing that she can sound distracted. Then, “The signal is very faint, but it’s working.” And a very tiny yellow dot lights up on Tony’s foot. “I have a range. If you can get inside it, I should be able to pinpoint Boss’s exact location.”

“Jim!” Peter yelps, relief flooding through him. “We found him!”

“You did?” Jim is at Peter’s side in moments, looking at the screen. His whole body sags in relief when he sees the tracking chips. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank god for Howard Stark’s paranoia. FRIDAY, reroute Vision. Have him meet me at the edge of the range.”

“Us,” Peter says.

Jim looks at him. “Kid – ”

“I’m not a kid! I’m Spider-Man. I can help. I swear. You can’t send Vision in there alone. He can’t protect Tony and fight off Stone at the same time. One of us can be a distraction. The other one can help Tony.”

“I’ll put on the armor and go.”

“Or all three of us could go,” Peter points out. “Triples the chance that Tony will get out unharmed if there are three people.” He squares his shoulders. “You might as well just let me come, because otherwise I’m just going to follow you.”

“Yeah,” Jim says after a pause, “I get that.” He’s smiling though, so he can’t be too angry. “Grab your suit. I’ll let Laura know. She’ll distract your aunt while we’re gone.”

“Okay,” Peter says, a little shaky. He heads over to the closet and grabs his suit, slipping into the bathroom. He hauls the suit on and puts the top and jeans over it. His heart is pounding, but the adrenaline is helping to clear his head. 

They’re going to make Tiberius Stone regret his decision to kidnap Tony.


	14. Chapter 14

Tony’s still curled up in the middle of the bed when he feels the building shudder. Literally. He opens one eye and glances over at the wall, watching the minute tremors. It takes a moment for understanding to sink in: either New York is having an earthquake, or the cavalry is here. The tight knot in his chest, the one that’s only grown bigger for every second he spends dwelling on Tiberius’s cruel words, finally loosens.

Someone came for him.

He takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. He can’t remember the last time that happened. Maybe once or twice when he was a kid? The handful of times Tony was kidnapped as a teenager the first time around, he’d escaped on his own and was usually back home before anyone realized he was gone. Especially after he was sent away to school, because no one had liked him there and so there was no one to notice that he was missing. 

He crawls to the edge of the bed and puts both feet on the floor. That’s moving too, practically vibrating beneath his feet, and Tony takes a few seconds to gleefully imagine the damage that War Machine must be doing to the foundation. It’s harder for Rhodey to wear the armor now. He finds it painful to wear for more than a couple hours at a time. Tony’s been taking steps to try and modify the armor so that Rhodey can use it for longer periods – or at least, he was before this whole de-aging thing happened.

Step one after getting out of here: finishing modifying the Iron Man armor so that Tony can kick ass again. Step two: finish the War Machine armor. 

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Tony.”

Tony yelps and spins around, only to see Vision’s head poking out of the floor. He gawks at the android, one hand pressed to his chest over his pounding heart. He didn’t even realize that he was speaking out loud, much less that there was someone else around to hear it. Vision just smiles and glides the rest of the way through the floor, which will never cease to be an extremely weird sight.

“You are unharmed?” Vision says, smile disappearing as he looks Tony over. 

“I’m fine,” Tony says, swallowing down an unexpected surge of emotion. It still does things to him to hear JARVIS’s voice coming out of Vision’s mouth, especially now. “You have excellent timing, though.”

“So I hear. Jim sent this for you.” Vision opens his right hand to reveal the watch gauntlet. Tony’s throat tightens and he scrambles forward to grab it. He feels better as soon as he slides it around his wrist, even though it’s too loose. He hooks his index finger into the strap and pulls it down, letting the gauntlet slide over his hand. Let Tiberius try to be a creepy pervert now.

“Thanks Vis. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“Allow me.” Vision looks at the door, eyes burning. Tony closes his eyes just in time to avoid being momentarily blinded by the brilliant flash of light that fries the lock. Vision steps forward and just barely touches the door, which crumbles into dust. The two guards standing in front of said door whip around with shocked expressions. They literally don’t even have the time to lift their guns before Vision grabs them around the neck, lifting both guards clear off the floor.

One of the guards tries to squeak something out, but Vision’s grip is too tight for him to speak. He tightens his grip until they lose consciousness, and then he opens his hands and lets their bodies fall to the ground. They’re both still breathing, Tony notices, which is probably a good thing. Knowing Tiberius, he threw money around until someone accepted his offer. It’s up for debate whether these idiots even knew what – or who – they were guarding.

“Jim and Spider-Man are downstairs,” Vision says, turning serenely to Tony. “We should join them.”

“Wait, Spider-Man is here?” Tony says, stunned.

“Oh yes. He was very clear that we would not be entering the building without him.” A small, amused smile crosses Vision’s face. “He is very protective of you.”

“I – that’s not – ” Tony sputters, unsure of how to respond to that. His face feels hot, so he knows he’s blushing. Vision just smirks at him and floats down the hallway, leaving Tony to scramble to catch up to him.

Closer to the stairs, they can hear the sounds of battle. Gunshots, the whine of a repulsor, and screaming. Tony hopes fervently that Rhodey and Peter are the cause of the latter, and not the ones screaming. He and Vision run into ten more guards on their way down the stairs. Every single one of them fires their guns. Vision grabs Tony and curls around him, shielding Tony with his body. Bullets ping uselessly off of him as he guides Tony back to a safe place.

“Stay here,” he commands, eyes bright with fury, and then he’s gone before Tony can protest. In the next thirty seconds, Tony’s left to listen to a lot of screaming. Apparently Vision can be a little bloodthirsty when he gets well and truly pissed off, who knew?

“Tony!” Vision calls out less than two minutes later. “It’s safe.”

It rankles a little that he’s being treated like the child he looks like but isn’t, but Tony has to admit he’s impressed when he walks back onto the landing and sees the bodies littered over the stairs. Vision didn’t kill anyone from the looks of it, but they’re all unconscious and he’s broken at least one leg and arm on all of them – smart. If they regain consciousness, they won’t be able to come up behind Vision and Tony.

“You should’ve left some for me,” Tony says, picking his way down the steps through the mess.

“I have faith in your ability to cause destruction,” Vision says. “But in this case, without the armor, I thought it prudent to eliminate the danger as quickly as possible.”

“I could’ve handled it,” Tony mutters, reaching him. Vision doesn’t answer, just motions with his hand for Tony to follow. They don’t encounter any more guards on the stairs, which is either a good thing or a bad thing. Tony’s not sure which until they get to the main floor and he hears… nothing. No screaming, no gun shots, nothing. Just an eerie silence. He exchanges a worried look with Vision, and they move forward.

But it turns out that Rhodey and Peter have been busy. More guards – how many did Tiberius hire for god’s sake? Tony counts at least thirty, not including the ones he and Vision took care of, which at least means that Tiberius is aware of how dumb a move it was to kidnap Tony Stark – litter the floor. In the middle of the room, Tiberius is kneeling on the ground. War Machine stands over him, hand inches from Tiberius’s head. 

“Tony!” Spider-Man says, and Tony jumps as Spider-Man literally falls from the ceiling and lands less than a foot away. In the next instant, Tony’s being wrapped up in a huge hug. There’s no hope of squirming away – Peter’s a lot stronger than he gives himself credit for sometimes – but honestly, Tony doesn’t want to. With Spider-Man’s arms around him, he feels like he can finally breathe again.

“See?” Tiberius spits out, eyes darting back and forth between Tony and Rhodey. “He’s fine.”

“He would be better if you hadn’t kidnapped him in the first place,” Rhodey snarls. “I’m telling you now, Stone. If you ever come near Tony again, I will kill you.” The faceplate snaps up, revealing Rhodey’s pissed expression. “Stay the fuck away from him, you hear?”

He backhands Tiberius, who hits the ground unconscious. It’s a satisfying thing to see, even though Tony kind of wishes he could’ve had the chance to use his wrist gauntlet in Tiberius’s stupid face. He can hear the sound of police cars though, so it’s pretty obvious what Rhodey has planned. And in a way, letting Tiberius go through the humiliating of being arrested – dumb, prissy Tiberius, who thinks that sleeping in hotels is beneath him and nearly had a heart attack when Tony called a cab for them once – is a better revenge than death.

“You two should get out of here,” Tony says, glancing at Spider-Man and Vision.

“What? No!” Spider-Man protests, clinging to him a bit tighter.

It takes work, but Tony carefully extracts himself from Spider-Man’s arms. The second he’s free he’s seized by the nearly uncontrollable urge to throw himself back into Spider-Man’s arms, but he forces himself to step away. “I mean it. The press won’t be far behind. This isn’t good publicity. We can say that it was just War Machine. Everyone knows Rhodey and I are bros. They’ll eat that up. Let’s not turn this into an official Avenger thing, okay?”

Even with the mask on, Tony can tell that Spider-Man is scowling. But amazingly, he doesn’t argue. He and Vision are gone in less than a minute. Tony breathes a sigh of relief and wraps his arm around himself, turning back around to face Rhodey. He’s intending to ask what Rhodey’s planning to tell the cops, but doesn’t get the chance. The armor opens up around Rhodey and he charges across the ten feet between them to grab Tony in another hug.

“I’m feeling loved,” Tony jokes into Rhodey’s chest, but it doesn’t come out nearly as lighthearted as he intends. Mortifyingly, his voice wobbles a little. 

“Goddamnit, Tony,” Rhodes mutters, hugging him even tighter than Spider-Man had. “You scared me half to death. When I heard that Stone was the one who had you… fuck.”

“He didn’t touch me,” Tony says, hugging Rhodey back just as hard. “He didn’t –” He ducks his head, shaking, because Tiberius could have and they both know it. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course I did. There was never any question, Tones, _never_. You’re my bro. You’re my _kid_ now, oh my god. I should put repulsor holes in his dick for kidnapping my kid!” Rhodey’s practically growling the words, but he doesn’t move to let go of Tony so Tony figures Tiberius’s dick is safe.

He stays wrapped up in Rhodey’s arms when the cops finally spill into the room. There’s a lot of yelling and confusion, but Rhodey is from the military and he’s used to that. He relates the story very calmly before letting Tony fill in the blanks. Tiberius is promptly arrested under several charges, including kidnapping and violating a restraining order, and it’s a pleasant sight to watch him get slung into the back of a police car.

“You know he’ll settle it quietly,” Tony mumbles. It’s the truth. Tiberius has ample money to make this go away. He might get prison for a year, maybe two. But even that’s a stretch. 

“Not if Pepper has anything to say about it. She was on the phone with S.I.’s legal time last I heard from her. She’s going to make sure that they do everything in their power to put Stone away for a long time. It’s overdue.” Rhodey’s face is hard as stone, like maybe prison is actually the safest place for Tiberius right now or else he might find himself having an ‘accident’ somewhere.

Tony just nods. He’s not so sure about that, but Tiberius was a mistake of his own making. Figures it’s a mistake that will follow him forever. “Can we go now?” 

Rhodey looks at him, frowning, but nods. “Of course. Come on. I’ll give you a ride in the armor.”

They check with the cops, who offer Tony a ride to the hospital that he declines – he’s fine, Tiberius barely touched him except for belting him across the face with the gun, and there’s not much the hospital can do for that but give him ice and meds, which they’ve got back at the tower – and then Rhodey get back into the armor. Tony steps closer and feels the metal arms come around his waist, holding him very carefully. Feeling sick, Tony shuts his eyes as they lift off.


	15. Chapter 15

“Peter!” Aunt May is on him the second that Peter walks into the room, throwing her arms around him. Peter winces a little, but he’s used to hiding pain. It’s just that now that he knows Tony is safe, some of the aches and pains are making themselves known. Despite that, he hugs Aunt May back.

“I’m okay,” he says before she can ask. “Really. And Tony is safe too.”

“Laura said that you were there when Tony was kidnapped,” Aunt May says, her voice cracking. “She said that you led the Avengers to the people who had taken Tony?”

It’s as good of an excuse as any. Peter nods. “Yeah. It was some ex-boyfriend of his.”

Aunt May pulls back and cups his face. She looks very serious. “I know you won’t want to hear this, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to keep up this internship. Tony Stark is a dangerous man to be around, Peter. He can make all the promises in the world, but at the end of the day he’s got a lot of enemies. I’m very concerned about you getting caught up in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you.”

Peter pauses. His initial instinct is to freak out, but he knows Aunt May well enough to know that won’t help the situation. Instead, he says, “Tony is my friend. He doesn’t have a lot of those, especially now. I can’t walk away from him.”

“But Peter, your safety –”

“I live in New York. I could be hit by a car tomorrow just as easily as I could be standing in a bank that gets held up,” Peter points out. “Or eating in a restaurant that gets destroyed by the Hulk.”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it,” Aunt May says, but half-heartedly. “I knew you wouldn’t listen. You have such a good heart. Too good.” She shakes her head with a rueful smile. “Just… please. Be careful. Run in the other direction at the first sign of trouble. Promise me you won’t get hurt.”

“I’ll do my best,” Peter says, because he can’t make that promise. It’s impossible. He has accelerated healing and that’s really helpful when it comes to every day bruises and broken bones, but he knows that the odds are against him. Someday he’s going to go up against an enemy that is stronger than what he can handle, and when that happens it’s going to destroy Aunt May. 

Aunt May’s mouth twists, like she realizes that he hasn’t actually promised, but she doesn’t push the issue. “I suppose it’s too much to ask you to leave tonight,” she says.

“I want to stay,” Peter says before she even finishes her sentence.

“Tony has Jim and Laura. Are you sure he’ll even want you here?”

No, Peter isn’t sure. Tony is a very private man and he’s made it clear that he doesn’t like to be seen by others when he’s hurt. But Tony didn’t push him away the two times that Peter hugged him, so Peter’s hopeful that maybe he’s starting to infiltrate the numerous, complicated layers that make up Tony Stark. Either way, he doesn’t want to leave Tony tonight.

“Please?” he asks, putting on the puppy eyes. “I’m sure you can stay in a guest room if you don’t want to leave either.”

“Tempting, but no. Laura said there was a car to take me home if I wanted it. I think I’ll accept.” Aunt May hugs him again. “You call me first thing in the morning, you understand? I don’t care if it’s at 5am. The second your eyes are open, your hand better be on that cell phone.”

“I will,” Peter says, hugging her back. He’s both surprised and pleased that she gave permission for him to stay at Stark Tower. He was expecting that she would insist on him coming home with her, and was readying arguments for why he should be allowed to stay. That’s Aunt May, though. She never ceases to be surprising in her own way.

He sees her downstairs to where the cars pick up and drop people off. It’s a relief to see that Happy is the one driving Aunt May home. Happy won’t let anything happen to his aunt, Peter knows. He tries to convey his gratitude with his eyes alone, not wanting Aunt May to wonder why it’s a big deal. Happy just rolls his eyes and opens the door up for Aunt May.

Once the car has blended with the other traffic, Peter goes back into the tower and takes the elevator up to the communal floor. It’s empty, and he’s pretty sure that meant Tony’s returned and Laura and Jim are upstairs fussing over him. He tugs his sleeves down over his hands, uncomfortable. Maybe he should’ve gone home with Aunt May. He doesn’t feel right about going up to Tony’s floor without an invitation.

Feeling at odds with himself, he sits down on the couch and turns on the television. He scans all of the news channels, half-expecting to see something about Tony’s kidnapping on the news. He doesn’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean much. Anything relating to Tony is hot news right now. By morning, Peter is positive that at least one news network will have picked up on it. 

He turns on some movie and grabs his phone to give Ned, MJ and Gwen an update on what happened. He’s blushing and sputtering over MJ’s text, asking whether he bent Tony over backwards to give him a passionate kiss after saving him, when the elevator doors open. Peter jumps and nearly drops his phone as Laura marches out and guides Tony over to the couch. Jim trails them, looking a little amused.

“Sit,” she commands, gently pushing Tony down beside Peter. “Stay. I’m going to get you some soup.”

“I’m not sick. I don’t need soup,” Tony mutters, but he’s not brave enough to say it loud enough for her to hear, nor is he brave enough to get up from the couch.

“Aunt May does the same thing,” Peter says, casually turning his phone over so that Tony can’t see the screen. “Except she can’t cook, so I usually end up with canned soup. I’m pretty sure Laura’s is homemade, so be grateful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says. “What were you looking at?”

Peter blushes, damn it. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Tony sounds a little gleeful. “Nothing doesn’t make you blush like that, Spider-boy.”

“I was just texting some friends, that’s all.” Knowing what’s coming, he blocks Tony’s attempt to steal the phone and hurriedly stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans. He can feel it vibrating against his leg and has zero doubt in his mind that Gwen and MJ are cooking up various erotic scenarios wherein Tony “thanks” Spider-Man for the rescue, while poor Ned wonders what his life had come to. 

“Spoilsport,” Tony says, pouting a little. It makes the bruise on the side of his face stand out even more. Peter wants to touch it, but that would be weird. He settles for pretending that he needs to change positions, which closes the last couple inches between them and presses their legs together.

“I’m not letting you read personal texts,” Peter says.

“How personal?” Tony asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Not that personal,” Peter replies. Which isn’t entirely honest. Gwen and MJ spend way too much time writing fanfiction in Peter’s opinion. But he isn’t about to share that fact with Tony.

Tony smiles like he knows that Peter is lying, but doesn’t press the issue. Peter eyes him, concerned. It isn’t like Tony to be this quiet. He glances over Tony’s head at Jim, but Jim looks equally concerned. Peter can’t help wondering what happened while Tony was with Stone. Did Stone hurt him? Touch him? Talk at him? Knowing Tony, and how much he tends to beat himself up, words could almost be worse than anything Stone did.

They sit in awkward silence until Laura comes back out bearing four bowls of soup and several warm rolls. Belatedly, it occurs to Peter that they never did get the chance to eat supper, and he finds himself ravenous. He devours the soup and four rolls, only then noticing that Tony hasn’t touched his meal. He keeps poking at the soup, but the spoon has yet to make it to his mouth.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Peter asks.

“Not really. You can have it.” Tony picks the bowl up and sets it on Peter’s tray. 

“That’s not really what I meant,” Peter says, but Tony just shrugs and starts picking at a roll, so Peter sighs and eats the second bowl of soup.

“Maybe we should call the doctor and get you checked out,” Jim suggests.

“No. No doctors.”

“Tones –”

“I said no doctors,” Tony snaps, tensing up. “I’m fine, seriously. I’m just not hungry.”

Jim and Laura exchanges looks, like they’re having a whole silent conversation. Peter can’t blame them. There’s something about Tony’s tone that makes goosebumps spread up his arms, though he can’t put his finger on what it is. He stays silent as Laura collects the dishes and goes into the kitchen. Jim follows her. They start up a quiet discussion about Tony, though the conversation is probably too low for Tony to hear.

“Turn it up,” Tony says, looking back at the television. “This is a good show.”

Peter obeys, raising the volume. He’s not really watching it, and he doesn’t think Tony is either, but it’s also obvious that Tony doesn’t want to talk. He sits in uncomfortable silence, trying to figure out what to say or do, and just about jumps out of his seat when Tony’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. When Tony doesn’t move, Peter goes very still. He slowly turns his head, and only his head, to look.

Tony’s eyes are closed, making the puffy circles under his eyes stand out. His breathing is deep and slow. He’s asleep, Peter realizes, which is… unusual. Usually Tony retreats to his workshop when something goes wrong, and today was about as wrong as they come. He can’t believe Tony is sleeping on him instead, albeit at an angle that looks like it’ll leave Tony with neck pain. Very carefully, Peter frees his arm and wraps it around Tony’s shoulders, letting Tony’s head shift to a more comfortable position. Tony murmurs something and Peter freezes.

“Pete?” he mumbles finally, the only intelligible word.

“Yeah, Tony, it’s me,” Peter whispers, swallowing hard. “Go back to sleep.”

Tony’s eyelids flutter and he sighs before going limp, his full weight coming to rest against Peter. It barely feels like anything, and that’s not just because of Peter’s increased strength. Tony needs to eat more than he does, Peter thinks. Now that Laura is leaving, he and Jim will have to figure out more ways to get Tony to eat regularly. 

Speaking of, Jim goes to walk back into the living room and freezes. His jaw drops. Peter gives him a sheepish smile, though he can’t help tightening his grip on Tony just a little bit. Tony makes a little sound in response and nuzzles closer, until his hair tickles Peter’s throat. Peter’s heart melts just a tiny bit. He can’t believe anyone would try to hurt someone like Tony.

“You got him to sleep,” Jim whispers finally.

Peter shrugs his free shoulder. “I didn’t – he just fell asleep on his own,” he whispers back, not wanting to claim credit for something he didn’t actually do.

“He trusts you. You make him feel safe,” Jim says, coming closer. Pride, warm and full, blooms inside of Peter’s chest. He looks down at Tony, amazed by the idea that anyone could trust him that much, but especially Tony Stark. And he wants _so much_ to be worthy of that trust.

Jim grabs a blanket and, after a glance at Peter for permission, drapes it over the both of them. “Would you mind staying here until he wakes up? I know from experience he’ll definitely wake up if we move him, and I’d like him to sleep while he can.”

“Sure,” Peter says, way too fast and too loud. “That’s no problem. I’m comfortable. I’m good.”

“Thank you Peter,” Jim says, as though Peter is the one who’s done something right, when all he did was sit here. Peter just nods in response, unsure of how to respond. Jim smiles at them and then tiptoes out of the room, shutting the lights off as he goes.

Peter can’t help himself. He works his free hand under the blankets until he finds his phone. He pays no attention to the numerous texts and quickly types one out himself:

 **Me:** I’M SLEEPING W/ TONY STARK

Then he puts his phone away, before the light can wake Tony up, and grins to himself as he feels it start to vibrate.


	16. Chapter 16

Tony jerks awake, the taste of blood in his mouth and the sound of Tiberius's laughter in his ears. Something shifts beside him and he _freaks_ , instinctively swinging his fist before he even knows what's going on. And he might be a scrawny kid again, but (according to Happy) he still packs a powerful punch when he wants to. He's shocked and panicked when someone catches his fist, redirecting the force of it harmlessly out to the right. Tony punches again and again, then gets his feet into it, convinced that it's Tiberius sitting beside him.

It takes way longer than it should for him to hear the two familiar voices speaking to him. He freezes mid-punch as his brain finally cottons on to the fact that it's Peter sitting beside him, not Tiberius. FRIDAY, sensing his awareness, stops talking about the progress on the new armor (and for a second, Tony _aches_ with how much he misses JARVIS, who knew better than to talk shop when bringing Tony out of a panic attack or a nightmare, and would instead drone on about dull topics like the weather until Tony's brain could click back into place) and starts asking if there's anything she can do for him.

"Would you like me to call Rhodey?" she asks, speaking slowly and clearly, and Tony shakes his head frantically.

"God no, please don't," he says, tasting blood again. He bit the inside of his cheek during his nightmare, he realizes. The spot stings when he swipes his tongue across it. "I'm fine, I - good lord, Peter." He suddenly realizes that he was punching and kicking _Peter_ during his nightmare. Feeling at once horrified and disgusted, Tony lurches to his feet.

"Whoa! Hey, Tony, no. Don't go."

"I hit you!" Tony snaps, annoyed when his knees nearly give out. Why the hell does he feel so weak? He takes another step forward and the room swims, and he remembers: oh right, Tiberius had pistol whipped him. FRIDAY's scans had indicated that he doesn't have a concussion, but it was probably a near thing.

"Tony!" Peter gets around in front of him, hands outstretched. "Look at me."

It's not like Tony has much choice, considering that they're chin-to-forehead when he stops wobbling. He looks up into Peter's eyes, torn between wanting to beg for forgiveness and fleeing the room. He hasn't slept beside anyone since Steve, that night at Clint's farmhouse. But then again, Tony can't really say he slept that night: he spent most of the night awake and staring into the dark, listening to the sound of Steve's breathing. The last person he really slept beside was Pepper, and that ended not long after that night he almost gave Pepper a heart attack by calling the Iron Man armor in his sleep.

"You didn't hurt me," Peter says, very gently. "You _can't_ hurt me, even if you tried. My spider sense warns me of potential danger, remember? And you know how fast my reflexes are. I was awake the second you woke up. We did all those experiments together. You concluded that I might actually be faster and stronger than Captain America, and then you did that dorky dance around the workshop." His mouth twitches into a half-smile at the memory, though he goes serious again all too quickly.

"I still hit you," Tony says, though less vehemently this time. Because Peter is right. It's impossible not to remember that day. He was amazed at what the readings told him. Peter is impossibly strong and fast by pretty much every reading Tony could come up with. In terms of strength, he's right up there with the Hulk and Thor and could probably go toe-to-toe with both of them if he was pissed. And the whole "spider sense" thing is something that Tony still finds fascinating. He can't figure out how or why Peter knows something is about to happen, but he's seen it in action enough times to know that the sense seems to be pretty infallible. 

"You were having a nightmare. You woke up and didn't know who was next to you. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't," Tony mutters, looking away from Peter's face. He closes his eyes, feeling unbearably weary. He can't believe he tried to punch one of the best things in his life. This is what he's come to, how far he's fallen.

He jumps when Peter hugs him, strong arms wrapping around Tony's shoulders and tugging him up against an equally strong body while his brain is still going 'WAIT, WHAT'. And it's almost like the hug back at the warehouse, except this time they're both wearing sweatshirts instead of Peter wearing specially designed armor, and as a result Tony can feel how fast Peter's heart is beating. He can feel the tremor in Peter's hands where they're pressed against Tony's shoulder blades. He can feel the heat of Peter's body, making the experience all too real. 

"You can't hurt me," Peter says again, directly into his ear. "And I meant what I said before. I'm not going anywhere. I'll say that as many times as I need to, to make you believe me." He sounds like the stubborn little shit that he is, and Tony wants to say as much but there's a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking. His eyes are burning, suspiciously hot.

"I'm sorry," Tony says. It comes out, humiliatingly enough, as a sob. "I hit you and my ex paid someone to tazer you and -"

"I don't care about any of that," Peter interrupts. "I care about you." He stutters a little, probably blushing, and goes, "Um, I-I mean -"

Tony hugs him back, hands sliding up so that he can clutch at the back of Peter's shirt as another sob breaks through. It's not just because of what Peter's saying, it's _everything_. The fact that Peter is still here. The fact that Tony can't hurt him (it's shocking how much of a _relief_ that is, the knowledge that he can't hurt Peter - at least not physically, anyway. Because Tony hurts everyone and eventually he'll hurt Peter too, but at least in this one way Tony's safe and that's an overwhelming piece of knowledge to try and absorb). The fact that he can rest against Peter, even for a moment, and Peter is strong enough to take his weight.

Peter doesn't say a word while Tony cries, just stands there and hugs him and is basically everything Tony could ever have asked for. It's only when Tony's tears are winding down that Peter asks, sounding nervous, "He didn't - he didn't _hurt you_ , did he?"

"No, Pete," Tony says, pressing his forehead to Peter's shoulder. "He didn't even touch me, actually." Because he knows what Peter is asking, but he doesn't have the strength to explain that rape isn't something Tiberius would ever lower himself to doing. People like Tiberius will hit you and slap you and hold you down during sex, but only because they can get away with pretending they didn't know what was going on. Tony's actually a little shocked that Tiberius crossed the line into flat-out kidnapping. He must've really convinced himself that Tony would see the light and decide to stay with him of his own free will.

Which is, of course, fucking delusional, but Tiberius has never been the smartest crayon in the box.

"That's good. I would hate to have to hunt him down."

"Peter!" Tony says, shocked enough that he jerks back to look Peter in the eyes again. Peter meets his gaze squarely, without an ounce of regret.

"I don't really like to think about killing anyone. It's not my job, but I know that it might happen someday. It might come down to me or the guy who wants to kill me. It might be _you_ or the guy who wants to kill you." Peter visibly swallows. "When Stone took you... I would've killed him to get you back. I don't know what to do about that." His voice is young and soft and confused.

Tony’s mouth is so dry he can’t speak. All he can think to say is, “I’m not worth that. Don’t ever kill someone just because of me.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“Yes it is. I – jesus, Peter. I’m the one who dragged you into this. It’s because of me that you’re even here. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands. You’re too good for that. I -” Tony’s lungs feel too tight and he can’t drag in a proper breath. Oh god. He’s leading Peter down a path that there’s no returning from. 

He pushes away from Peter and staggers over to the windows, bracing himself against the cold glass. The sight of New York sprawled out below him used to be comforting, but it’s hard to ignore the sky above it. Most of the time Tony can cope pretty well, but right now the sight of the endless black expanse, dotted with silver stars but no moon, makes his chest hurt. There’s something really bad coming eventually, and he’s put Peter squarely on a path to interact with it.

“Tony, hey. _Hey_.” Peter’s voice sharpens, speaking from right behind him. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I was already Spider-Man before you met me. All you did was teach me how to protect myself and give me the tools to do it. You think I would’ve ever had the money or equipment to make a suit like that? Karen’s saved my ass ten times over. That’s all thanks to you.”

Tony shakes his head, still trying to remember how to breathe. The air in the room shouldn’t be thin, yet it feels like dragging in full breaths isn’t doing him any good at all. He curls in on himself, pressing his forehead to the glass. His reflection stares at back at him: stupidly young and weak, eyes bright with fresh tears, cheeks flushed as he gasps. Pathetic.

“You couldn’t stop me from being Spider-Man even if you tried. Even if you outed me to every government agency in the world, I would still do it because I hated the way I felt when I sat by and let things happen that I could have stopped. And eventually I would’ve started helping the Avengers. It was inevitable. Something would’ve happened in New York that you and Vision couldn’t handle, and I would’ve been right there probably making the situation worse because I didn’t know what to do.

“You stopped that, Tony. You showed me how to be smart about helping people.” Peter’s arms wrap around him from behind this time, pulling Tony up a little. Easing the constriction on his chest. Peter’s nose presses against the back of Tony’s neck, voice gone all shaky. “I might be dead if it weren’t for you. I know a lot of other people sure as hell would be. You’re right when you say that I’m here because of you, but that’s a _good thing_. I’m… I’m really happy I met you.”

“Peter…” It’s the only word Tony can force out. He wants to say so much more. He wants to say that Peter is grossly misinformed, and that meeting Tony will probably be the thing that leads to his death or destruction or both. He wants to say that he’s mortified Peter is here right now, because the last person Tony cried in front of was Laura and this is so much (better) worse. He wants to say that he is so fucking grateful Peter is here right now.

“I know,” Peter murmurs, like he _gets it_. His grip tightens a little, pulling Tony back against him. “We’ll figure it out. It’s gonna be okay.”

You don’t know that, Tony wants to say, but he doesn’t. He clasps his hands over Peter’s and bows his head, tasting the salt of tears and feeling weak as the surge of adrenaline leaves his system. Breathing starts to get a little easier when he can match the movement of his chest to Peter’s – and when he can focus on the solid presence standing behind him. It’s not fair to lean on a sixteen-year-old, Tony knows that. He shouldn’t want Peter this way. Peter deserves so much better.

He knows that, but he’s never been good at denying himself what he wants.


	17. Chapter 17

Peter wakes up to the sound of quiet voices having a conversation somewhere over his head. He recognizes Tony’s voice immediately, and then Pepper’s a second later. Their voices stop when he opens his eyes, blinking sleepily, and realizes that he’s lying with his head in Tony’s lap. Tony is kind of slouched down on the couch at an angle that probably shouldn’t be comfortable, while Pepper is sitting in the chair.

Pepper smiles at him. “Good morning, Peter. Did we wake you?”

“It’s fine,” Peter says through a yawn. He’s extremely comfy and hates to move, but he’s also got his head in Tony’s lap without permission so he sits up. Early morning light is spilling through the windows, pooling on the floor, but Peter doesn’t feel well rested and he suspects that Tony doesn’t either. 

Tony pretty much fell asleep in his arms last night while they were standing at the window. Peter had picked him up and taken him back to the couch, but that wasn’t the end of Tony’s nightmares. He hadn’t struck out at Peter again, but he woke up more than once convinced that Stone was somewhere around him. Needless to say, they were both awake more than they were asleep.

“Rhodey sent me a message saying Tony was okay, but I just had to come by and see for myself,” Pepper says. Now that Peter’s looking at her, he can see that she’s been crying. So has Tony. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Peter swings his legs around so they’re on the floor.

“You guys need to chat, and I should call Aunt May. Let me get out of your way.”

“Actually, hold on,” Pepper says, lifting a hand. “Tony, one of the other reasons I came over is because word has gotten out. Some of the news channels picked it up this morning.”

Tony grimaces. “That sucks, but it’s not surprising. What’s the word? Are people calling me a slut yet?”

“What?” Peter says, horrified. “You were kidnapped!”

“Actually, they’re being pretty reasonable this time. The general consensus is that Tiberius is a dirty old pervert.” Pepper looks as satisfied as a cat with a dish of cream, her mouth curved in a smug smile. “I issued a statement this morning saying that Stark Industries is grateful for your safe return, and making it clear that you were unwillingly kidnapped at gun point. I also said that we will be bringing full charges against him.”

“Good,” Peter mutters, and Pepper nods.

“Our legal team is on standby. In the meantime, there’s a gala tomorrow night and I think you should attend.”

“What, why?” Tony says. “That’s the last thing I want to do. I look awful.” He waves a hand towards his face, and Peter has to admit that the spectacular bruise on Tony’s temple doesn’t exactly scream ‘take my photo’. 

“It’s either that or another press release. Tony, I’m sorry, but people are worried about you. You’ve kept yourself out of the public eye since the de-ageing, and, while we all agreed that was for the best, it’s raising a lot of questions about your health and state of mind. Questions that I can’t answer on your behalf. The first press conference we did can only do so much; it’s old news now. People need to see you. They want to make sure that you’re okay. Putting in a brief showing at the gala will not only show them that you’re fine, but also prove that you’re still the same person as before.”

Peter doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all. Growing up, he watched more than his fair share of Tony Stark at galas, presentations, meetings, workshops, and fundraisers. He’s seen what that world is like, and it’s not the kind of world Tony needs to be exposed to right now. Those people aren’t worried. They’re curious. They’re like vultures, hungry for meat and information that the rest of the world doesn’t know. 

He wants to speak up in Tony’s defense, but forces himself to remain quiet. This isn’t his fight. He has no say in whether or not Tony goes to the gala. It’s Tony’s choice. And Peter knows what Tony’s going to choose before Tony even opens his mouth. If there’s one thing that Peter has learned about Tony Stark, it’s that Tony will always put the wants and needs of other people before himself.

And sure enough, Tony says, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Sure. You’ll have to call Carla in. She’s a whiz with make-up,” he adds to Peter. “She can make me look halfway presentable.”

“I’ve already got her waiting on standby.” Pepper pulls out her phone and starts tapping away. “I’ll make sure that you only have to put in a brief appearance. No more than an hour. Just long enough to chat with a few people, dance a couple of times and then you’ll be on your way.”

“Dance?” Tony says, pulling a face. “It’s gonna look weird dancing with you now.”

“I’m not going to be your date. Happy is taking me.”

“Then I’m going alone?”

Pepper’s smile is pure innocence. “No, of course not. Actually, I thought Peter might want to accompany you.”

“What?!” Tony blurts out. “That’s not – Peter’s trying to keep his face out of the media, Pep. No way.”

“Okay,” Peter says at the same time, before he has the chance to really think it through. But, in spite of the incredulous look Tony turns on him, he realizes that he doesn’t regret it. Yeah, it sucks that people will be taking pictures of them together. Peter’s going to be Someone for a little while, and that thought is discomforting at best.

At the same time, he knows that’s inevitable. He’s been spending more time with Tony lately. Most of it’s been in the tower, but it’s only a matter of time until that changes and someone snaps a photo of them. He’s not willing to stop spending time with Tony over something that seems so minimal, either. And the upside is that it means Tony will have more than one person in his corner while he’s at the gala.

“ _Okay_?” Tony looks thunderstruck. “Peter, no! You don’t know what the press is like. How much they’ll hound you for any scrap of information. What if they find out about you being Spider-Man? They’ll never leave you alone. You’ll be in the spotlight constantly.”

“We will, of course, do what we can to stop that from happening. The fact that you’re under eighteen will help,” says Pepper. “It’s entirely your choice.”

The thought of the press figuring out his identity does make Peter’s heart beat a little faster. He had decided from the get-go that he would be keeping everything a secret. Not just because he didn’t want Aunt May to worry, but because he didn’t want to put her or any of his other friends in danger. It’s also just easier; criminals are far more threatened by Spider-Man when they don’t know that a seventeen-year-old kid is behind the mask. There are lots of reasons to change his mind.

But the alternative is ceasing contact with Tony and letting things go back to the way they were before: barely talking to Tony, only communicating through texts or the occasional phone call, using Happy as a go-between. Peter doesn’t want that. He likes spending time with Tony. He likes Tony. He may not know much about Tony’s past (beyond what the media’s reported, of course, and they’re not exactly trustworthy sources), but he doesn’t want to be another person who left Tony Stark behind. He feels an immediate swell of protectiveness at the thought. 

“I’d like to go,” Peter says firmly, decision made. “The press will see me with you sooner or later. It might as well be on our terms.”

Pepper’s face lights up. “Peter Parker, you are now and forever my favorite.”

“Pep, no!” Tony protests. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Peter said yes, Tony. It’s his choice.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to be my date,” Tony says. “Did you think of that? You didn’t ask me!”

Pepper levels him with a dry look. “Tony, I know exactly how much you want Peter to be your date.”

Tony opens his mouth and then closes it, face flushing. Peter stares at them, wondering what, exactly, that’s supposed to mean. Pepper catches his eye and winks at him where Tony can’t see. 

“So that’s settled,” Pepper says, clapping her hands. “Peter, I’ll have someone send a tuxedo and shoes over here for you. Tony has your measurements from your Spider-Man suit, so that shouldn’t be an issue. You’ll have to be here for around four, so someone will pick you up from school.”

“Okay, thanks,” Peter says. He figures that Tony and Pepper have more to talk about, so he adds, “I should go anyway. Aunt May probably wants to make sure I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Bye,” Pepper says, all cheer, and Tony mutters a goodbye as well. Peter wants to say… _something_. He doesn’t know what. Anything to wipe that awful, unhappy look off of Tony’s face. But he has no idea what to say or how to make this better. It’s not like he can pick Tony up and spirit him away from the rest of the world. Nice as the idea sounds in theory, in practice the whole world would go to hell in five minutes.

So he just sort of nods at them both and gets up, leaving the room quietly. Part of him really doesn’t want to go, not with Tony having just been kidnapped, but there’s Aunt May and school to deal with. Not to mention – Peter pulls his phone out of his pocket – the dozens of text messages from his friends. He winces, but can’t help grinning at the sight of them. They get increasingly garbled until the last one, which is just a series of exclamation marks from Gwen. He’s going to have a lot of explaining to do.

“Peter!”

At the sound of Tony’s voice, Peter stops short. “Yeah?”

Tony walks up to him quickly, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. “I know it’s none of my business, but… if you’re really gonna do this, like be seen with me in public and everything, you should think about telling your aunt the truth.”

Peter blinks. “Why?”

“Because she’ll take it far better coming from you than she would from the media,” Tony answers. “Believe me, I know.” He tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. “I’m just saying. I know you’re trying to protect her, but sometimes keeping people in the dark isn’t the way to do that.”

“But if she doesn’t know, she can’t get pulled into it,” Peter points out.

“I know you think that, and in an ideal world that would probably be true. But this is the real world. Someone could figure out who you are without you knowing and approach your aunt. If she doesn’t know to watch out for anything dangerous, then they could… you know.” Tony clears his throat. “I’m just saying, you should give it some thought. I think she’ll take it better than you think she will.”

"Okay," Peter says slowly, wondering how long Tony has been thinking this way. "I'll think about it."

"Good. Great." Tony nods, then winces and lifts a hand to his head. "Ow."

"Go lay back down," Peter tells him. "I will call Jim and Laura down and tell them that you're walking around before you should be."

"You wouldn't."

Peter lifts his phone. "Try me."

"Okay okay. You drive a hard bargain." But Tony's smiling, just a little, as he turns to walk back into the living room. Peter is under no illusion that Tony will actually rest, he'll probably run down to the workshop as soon as he's done with Pepper, but he feels better for having tried.


	18. Chapter 18

Tony waits to make sure Peter is gone before he turns a wounded look on Pepper. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“It had to be done,” Pepper says, unmoved. “I’m sorry, but I believe that Peter is old enough to make these kinds of decisions. You can’t force him to stay away from you, Tony. He’s just as stubborn as you are; he’d climb the side of the Tower if he had to. And you know as well as I do that there is a certain amount of responsibility and scrutiny that comes with being close to you. If we can get the ball rolling on that rather than waiting for someone else to figure it out, I’d rather do that.”

It makes sense, but that doesn’t mean Tony likes it. He sinks back into the couch. “I’m always fucking things up for people,” he says. It’s not directed at any particular person. It’s just the truth. It seems like, especially lately, no one comes away from an encounter with Tony Stark for the better.

“That’s not true. You saved Peter’s life by giving him that new suit.” Pepper slides closer to him, touching his arm comfortingly. “Besides, the likelihood that Peter will be able to keep his identity a secret forever is very slim. You’re teaching him how to handle the press and their nosiness _before_ that happens. Those are valuable skills he’ll need for when he gets thrust into the limelight.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Tony says, wishing that Pepper could turn out to be wrong. But he doesn’t think she is. Having a secret identity wears on you after a while. Mistakes happen. All it takes is one person with a big mouth to blow a secret wide open. Tony knows that better than anyone. Peter’s just a regular kid. He has zero idea how to handle all that.

“That’s what I’m here for. I know you don’t like it, but I do have Peter’s best interests at heart.”

“Maybe what’s best for him is staying away from me.”

Pepper looks at him sideways. “I’d have thought you’d learned that avoiding your crushes don’t work.”

It shouldn’t be possible to choke on spit. Coughing hurts when you’re bruised all over. Tony glares at her. “I don’t have a crush on Peter!”

“Tony.” Pepper’s expression melts into a perfect deadpan look, the one she gives him when he’s trying to weasel out of business meetings.

“I don’t!”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes, you do. And it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! I’m in my fifties, Pep! He’s a teenager!”

“You’re sixteen,” Pepper says, holding up a hand to forestall his response. “No, listen to me. You’ve changed since you got de-aged. Rhodey, Laura and I have all noticed. You may have the _memories_ of being in your fifties, but you’re not _in_ your fifties anymore, Tony. I think it’s time you start admitting that to yourself. Not just because of Peter, but because you can’t live in denial.”

Tony stares at the floor, not wanting to admit that she’s right. He wants to keep pretending that mentally, he hasn’t changed at all. But the thing is… he has. He’s more impulsive and emotional now and less prone to making rational decisions. He’s noticed that it’s not always easy to think things through the way he used to: he sure as hell thinks about sex a lot more than before. He’s had some very interesting dreams about Peter since seeing Peter standing in the living room half-naked.

“You’re not taking advantage of Peter, or anyone else you might want to date who’s the same age as you are now. In particular, you have no moral, legal or financial obligations to Peter. You were never anything more than a mentor to him, and even then you only had a couple of sessions together since you’ve been so busy handling everything else. The suit was a gift which you gave to him over three months ago. It had no strings attached. So this is no different than if you had wanted to date one of the Avengers.”

Tony flinches at the thought. At one time, he’d harbored thoughts of dating Steve. Just idle thoughts, leftovers of teenage fantasies, where Steve would discover (or admit) he was gay, he and Tony would start spending more time together, and gradually fall in love. Obviously, that never happened. And it’s probably for the best that it didn’t. Steve’s actions hurt enough as it is. Tony can’t imagine what it would have been like if Steve had dumped him for Bucky, and there’s no doubt in his mind that that would’ve happened.

Pepper wraps an arm around his shoulders, tipping their heads together. “I know. I don’t like the idea of it either. But it’s true. If anything, it would be _less_ sketchy for you to date Peter. The Avengers were living in your home. You were supporting them. You gave them gifts regularly. You handled all aspects of public relations and legalities for them. They should have been in debt to you, whereas Peter owes you nothing.”

Everything Pepper says makes sense, but… “I still feel icky about it,” Tony says.

“Understandable. That’s the adult side of your brain that isn’t supposed to find seventeen-year-old kids attractive. But I suspect that will fade with time. It already has.” Pepper’s hand tightens just a little too much and Tony starts, wincing, then freezes.

“Tony?” Pepper says, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly. Too quickly judging by how her eyes narrow even more, until it looks like she’s glaring at him. Maybe she is. He tries to slip out from under her arm, but her grip is too tight and his shoulder is throbbing now. 

“It’s never nothing with you. Show me.” She catches the hem of his shirt, pulling at it until she can see the bandage. “Tony! Laura told me you weren’t hurt except for your head and some bruising!”

“It’s nothing,” Tony says again. “He just… clipped me with a bullet. I bandaged it myself.” He stands by it, too. Being a squishy human underneath the armor, as well as having a deep dislike of hospitals, means that he’s had to get used to looking after himself. He has a corner of the workshop that's fully stocked with the highest quality medical supplies that he can get his hands on, as well as a smaller selection of supplies in his bedroom. He borrowed some of them last night to take care of the worst of his injuries and he doesn't regret it.

"You were _shot_?" Pepper exclaims, her voice going a little shrill. 

"Technically."

"That's it. You're going to the doctor."

"That's not -"

"It's not negotiable," Pepper says. "At the very least, you need a tetanus shot. This is Tiberius Stone we're talking about. Who the fuck knows what was on those bullets?"

When Pepper starts to swear, Tony's beaten. He sighs, closing his eyes. If he continues to disagree, she'll end up calling Rhodey and Laura in. There's no way that Tony will be able to stand firm against the three of them. It'll be even worse if they get Vision going: it's strangely impossible to say no to Vision sometimes, which is something that Tony hopes Vision never catches on to.

"Fine, but you have to promise that you'll stay with me," he says without an ounce of shame. He doesn't like doctors. The rest of the Avengers used to mock him for it; Clint once told him that he was more than old enough to have outgrown being scared of needles, because "old man" jokes were apparently the height of humor.

But Clint had never woken up in a cave to find a stranger's hands in his chest. Clint had never been sitting in a bakery having a discussion only to have someone come up behind him and stab him in the neck with an unknown substance. Clint had never been paralyzed and had the arc reactor stolen out of his chest. Tony doesn't have the arc reactor anymore, but those scars are carved deep and have left him with a lasting distrust of anyone wielding medical equipment.

He has it written into his medical charts that he's never to be left alone in the hospital if a procedure is being done. Someone on his list of trusted people needs to be with him at all times. The Avengers never made that list. Tony couldn't have faith that Natasha or Clint wouldn't try to examine the arc reactor, or that Steve or Bruce wouldn't just walk away, or that Thor, who still doesn't understand consent on even a basic level, wouldn't be swayed into agreeing to something unjust.

"Of course," Pepper says, her face softening. She gets up and holds out her hand, helping Tony off the couch. He sways a little once he's on his feet and has to admit that he's grateful for Pepper's steadying hold.

They walk down to the medical bay together. After SHIELD fell, and Tony ended up offering some of the more trustworthy agents like Maria Hill a job, he set up a med bay in the lower floors of Stark Tower for treatment. Some of the better doctors who were once employed by SHIELD moved in, and now he has a functioning hospital that can treat battle-worn agents and Starks alike within easy reach.

The doctor on duty is used to people who don't want to be there. She sits Tony down briskly peels off the bandage, checks the wound on his shoulder and then pronounces it mildly infected. She cleans the wound out, puts five stitches in, and gives Tony some antibiotics with strict instructions to stop handling his own wounds. Tony gives her his best look of pure innocence, which earns him rolled eyes from both Pepper and the doctor. They're ganging up on him.

"I should tell Rhodey about this," Pepper says as Tony puts his shirt back on, "but I won't under one condition."

"What condition would that be?" Tony asks warily.

"You have to let Peter come to the gala."

"I thought that was a foregone conclusion."

"I know you. If you don't want him there, you'll find some way to keep him away," she says, and she's not wrong. "Actually, make that two conditions. The other condition is that you have to let yourself be open to having some kind of relationship with Peter."

"You can't make me do that," Tony says. He tries to cross his arms, but the position makes his shoulder ache and he has to settle for putting one of his hands on his hips.

Pepper sighs. "No, I can't. And frankly I wouldn't want to force you to do it. But I would like you to be happy, and I think Peter can do that for you. I would hate to see you throw away a chance at happiness just because of a misguided sense of morals."

"I'm trying to think of what's best for Peter!"

"Tony, you are not some dangerous thing that needs to be kept away from Peter. Listen to me. You're a wonderful, caring man. I know that things fizzled out between us. We couldn't make it work. That doesn't mean I don't think you would be a catch for anyone who is lucky enough to grab your attention." Pepper takes his hand. "I love you. I want you to be happy."

Tony stares at the floor rather than look at her earnest expression. Truth be told, the thought of dating Peter scares the shit out of him. He might be sixteen again physically, but he still has a ton of baggage. It doesn't seem fair to expect Peter to put up with all that. And if they can't make it work, then he'll have ruined Peter too. He doesn't want to ruin the one pure, good thing still in his life.

"I just can't," he says, voice gone wobbly. "Even putting aside my mental age, Peter... he's too good, Pep."

"Oh, Tony." Pepper pulls him into a gentle hug. "You're the good one," she whispers. "I just wish you could see yourself the way Rhodey and I do."

"You're biased," Tony jokes, but his voice cracks.

"No, baby, no. We're not biased at all." She presses a kiss to his temple. "You deserve all the best things in the world."


	19. Chapter 19

"Peter! You're home!" 

The second Peter steps into their apartment, Aunt May is there pulling him into a fierce hug. Rather than pull away, Peter sinks into the embrace. It feels nice, though not as nice as the hug with Tony - and thank god Aunt May isn't looking at him right now because his whole face burns at that thought. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about other things, anything else, until the heat in his face fades and he feels safe enough to pull back. Aunt May looks him up and down, then touches his right cheek.

"Let's get some ice on that," she says.

He must have a bruise there, Peter realizes. He's become so used to bruises and pain that it takes a lot to make him really notice them anymore, but he obediently follows Aunt May into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. She bustles over to the freezer and takes out an ice pack, which she wraps in a towel before handing it over. Peter sets it gently against his cheek, knowing that the ice pack won't do much - he heals faster than most people, so within a day, maybe less, the bruise will be gone - but unwilling to argue.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking up at her. Aunt May was in the restaurant when Stone made his move, after all. He feels like he’s barely seen her in months, even though this whole thing happened in less than forty-eight hours.

"I'm fine. Jim got Laura and I both out after that explosion. It happened at the back of the restaurant, not the front. Though I have to admit it was a shock." Aunt May shakes her head and sits down at the table. "Peter, the more I think about it, the more -"

"I'm Spider-Man."

The words are out before Peter can think about them, and once they're out there's no way he can take them back. He sits there, frozen, and his heart starts to pound immediately. He didn't mean to say that. In spite of what Tony said, he hasn’t planned on telling Aunt May until he’s older – like graduated from high school and living at the NYU dorms older.

But he also can't sit here and listen to Aunt May express more worries about Peter spending time with Tony Stark. There's only so much Peter can say to placate her. Sooner or later she'll order him to stay away from Tony, and that will put Peter in the uncomfortable position of having to lie to her even more than he already does. He can also see it causing a lot of complications to his nightly patrols if she starts trying to keep track of him more than she already does.

And god forbid she call _Tony_ up and tell Tony to stay away from Peter. That will inflate Tony's already massive sense of guilt to epic proportions and he'll probably never seen Tony again.

There's a long moment of silence during which Aunt May processes what he's said: her face goes from blank, to shocked, to understanding, and then back to blank. She stares at him without speaking until Peter squirms. He's run this moment through his head dozens of times, ever since the first time he put on his old uniform and beat up a bunch of muggers. He's pictured Aunt May having countless reactions ranging from bursting with pride to kicking him out. This complete silence was never on the list and it makes a sweat break out over his skin.

"Aunt May?" he whispers, setting the ice pack down. "Please don't be mad. I can prove it. Look." He pulls up the waist of his shirt, showing her the unmistakable colors and design of the costume. It's still a bit singed from what happened, but Tony hasn't had time to repair it yet and Peter would never think of asking for that right now. He'll fix what he can with Karen's help and the rest can wait until later.

"You're Spider-Man," Aunt May repeats, still sounding blank. "So that was you at the airport, getting an airplane thrown at you."

Peter winces a bit. "Um, yeah."

“And all those times that Spider-Man showed up in the newspaper because he was facing down bank thieves or muggers or god knows what else. That was you?”

“Yes.”

“All those injuries you say you got from bullies?”

“More Spider-Man than bullies,” Peter admits. He still faces some bullies at school, but not nearly as many as there used to be. 

She takes a deep breath. "And this internship you've been doing for Stark Industries. Did that have anything to do with science or was that just a cover?"

"Mostly a cover,” Peter says in a small voice.

Aunt May nods once. "I'm going to kill Tony Stark."

"No!" Peter leaps to his feet. "It's not Tony's fault."

"He put you in danger!" Aunt May snaps, grabbing for her phone. "Wait until I get my hands on -"

"Aunt May, stop!" Peter yells. He never raises his voice, so it's enough to actually make her stop. "This is _not_ Tony's fault. In fact, he had absolutely nothing to do with it. I was already Spider-Man when I met him. For almost six months beforehand, in fact. If anything, you should be thanking him."

"Thanking him?" Aunt May's voice shakes a bit. "For putting you in danger?!"

"He's been helping me! He gave me this suit. It's a hundred times better than the first one I was using. It has an artificial intelligence in it that has improved my life in a hundred ways. Plus, the fabric is a lot stronger and more durable and it has all kinds of neat features. He and the other Avengers also provide back-up. I was out there on my own before, but now I have people I can call on for help.”

Aunt May stares at him. Slowly, she sinks into her chair. “Peter… why would you… I just don’t…”

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Peter says earnestly. “I really am. I wanted to tell you, but I knew you would be upset. And I thought it might put you in danger. Mostly, I just didn’t want you to tell me I had to stop.”

“Well of course I –”

“Because I can’t stop,” he interrupts.

“Peter.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I tried. But I can _save_ people. I can help them. No one else can do what I can.”

“The Avengers can,” she says shortly.

Peter nods. His hands feel cold and clammy. “That’s true, they can. But you’ve been watching the news. Most of the team are fugitives in hiding from the law. There’s only a couple left in New York. They don’t have time to patrol the streets at night and stop burgulars from breaking into apartments, or car thefts, or muggings. They have to focus on the bigger stuff. That’s where I come in.”

“I don’t…” Aunt May trails off, shaking her head. She pauses for a moment, then starts again. “I need to think about this. I can’t talk about it right now, I just –”

“That’s fine. I’m fine,” Peter says. “But please, promise me you won’t contact Tony. He really has nothing to do with this. It was my decision and it still is.”

“I can’t make that promise. He’s an adult. If he knew about this, then he should’ve stopped you.”

“No one could’ve stopped me! And short of throwing me into a prison cell, no one will,” Peter snaps. He resents the implication that Tony has so much control over Peter that he could’ve said the word and Peter would’ve stopped.

The truth is, Peter did try to stop. Back when he first got his powers, he didn’t really do much with them. They were agonizing to get (fun fact: radioactive spider bites are extraordinarily painful) and he was afraid of them at first – afraid of what they could do, what _he_ could do, and what it could mean if the wrong person found out about them. He was not, and still isn’t, interested in being someone’s science project. The idea of being dissected to find out what makes him tick has featured in more than one nightmare.

But then came everything that happened with Uncle Ben. Aunt May is doing better now, but Peter can still see the strain of everything on her face when she thinks he’s not looking. Peter’s determined not to let anything like that happen ever again if he can do something about it. That’s why he agreed to go with Tony to Germany in the first place. Tony seemed convinced that Peter could help bring Captain America and the other Rogues in peacefully.

That didn’t work out, of course, but Peter doesn’t regret going. He believes his presence there made a difference and at the end of the day that’s all he cares about. He doesn’t know how to explain that to Aunt May, though. He doesn’t know how to tell her that if she orders him to stop, he won’t. He doesn’t know how to tell her that, if Tony told him tomorrow that Peter either stopped being Spider-Man or stopped seeing Tony, he’d probably still choose being Spider-Man. This is something that Peter _has_ to do.

Aunt May just looks at him for a long moment, her eyebrows furrowed together, and then she gets up. She walks out of the room without another word. Peter watches her go, his stomach churning. He’s really hoping that once she gets over the initial shock, she’ll calm down enough to understand. He might be only seventeen but he’s got a responsibility to use these powers as best he can.

He slowly sits back down at the table and pulls out his phone again. On the trip home, he placated his friends with the information that he and Tony had just fallen asleep beside each other on the couch. Gwen is pissed about being misled. MJ’s only comment was that she knew Peter didn’t have enough game for it to be true, which kinda stings but also isn’t necessarily a lie. Ned’s bursting with questions about ‘the inner sanctum of Tony Stark’.

Peter ignores them all for the moment and swipes over to his last conversation with Tony. The days where he barely spoke to Tony and just sent Happy endless text messages that mostly went unanswered are long gone; now when Peter sends a text, Tony answers pretty much immediately. He hesitates for only a few seconds before typing up a quick text.

 **Me:** I told Aunt May the truth

His phone rings like five seconds later, Tony’s familiar picture flashing across the screen. A lump forms in Peter’s throat as he answers. “Hello?”

“Are you okay? Should I be expecting an angry phone call?” Tony asks. He sounds so warm and concerned. 

“I told her not to, but yeah. Maybe,” Peter says, feeling a flush of guilt. This is the last thing that Tony needs to deal with right now. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t mind talking to her.”

That’s a lie and they both know it, but Peter’s not sure how to push the issue. He just says, “I don’t want to stop seeing you. And I don’t want to stop being Spider-Man, either.”

“I know you don’t.” Tony sighs over the line. “Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged you to tell her.”

“It was the right decision,” Peter says, vowing right then and there that Tony will never know that Peter confessed to being Spider-Man just to stop Aunt May from telling him not to see Tony. The point that was he was trying to make, which is that Peter will see violence and be exposed to danger with or without Tony, seems to have been lost and now he’s just made Aunt May even more upset with both of them.

He really hopes that this doesn’t turn out to have been a huge mistake.


	20. Chapter 20

Tony falls asleep waiting for the phone call from May that never comes. He wakes up the next morning confused and disoriented to find Rhodey's face less than an inch away. Jerking back automatically, he lets out a flustered squeak when Rhodey follows and starts grabbing at the hem of his shirt. Too late it occurs to Tony that Rhodey is trying to get at the bandage on his shoulder. 

The tussle that follows is brief but angry. Tony ends up face down on the couch with an angry soldier straddling him and flails in protest, which ultimately does nothing: Rhodey was always stronger than him, but that goes double now. He ends up subsiding into sulky silence as Rhodey pries the neckline of his shirt down far enough to see the white bandage the doctor taped on.

"You got shot and you didn't tell me?" Rhodey snarls. He sounds so pissed that Tony winces a little, but then Rhodey adds, "That _motherfucking asshole_. I'm going to go break into jail and shoot _him_ in the shoulder. Then I'm going to shove my foot so far up his ass -"

"Jim," Laura says, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Could you get off your son?"

Rhodey climbs off of Tony, still swearing under his breath. As soon as Tony sits up, he swoops down and shoves their faces together again. "You didn't tell me?!"

"It's not a big deal! It was just a graze." Tony works a hand between them, plants it across Rhodey's face and none too gently shoves said face away. His shoulder aches now, the pain of new stitches that got pulled during the tussle, but he refuses to let it show. He'll never hear the end of it if he does.

"Are you okay?" Laura asks before Rhodey can speak. She looks concerned enough that Tony feels like he can't brush her off, even though he wants to drop the whole subject.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Only five stitches," Tony says. "How did you find out? Pepper promised not to tell."

"The doctor sent me an email," Rhodey says, crossing his arms. 

Damn. Tony didn't think of that. "Well, she shouldn't have bothered. She gave me some antibiotics. I don't even have to take pain meds." He gets up, fumbling for his phone and wincing at the crick in his neck. He's got to stop falling asleep on couches, though at least his sixteen-year-old body doesn't give him nearly as hard a time as his forty-five-year-old body used to.

He checks his phone and slumps when he realizes that he's got two missed calls from May Parker. It's twenty minutes after noon and Peter will be here in like four and a half hours and Tony's got to smooth this over before then. He doesn't want to drag Peter to a gala while Peter is worrying about whether or not his aunt is going to kick him out. Especially not when it was Tony's suggestion in the first place.

The problem is, he's not really sure how. May's already made it clear that Tony isn't on her list of favorite people. She doesn't even really want Peter hanging around him. This is just going to make her even more sure that Peter shouldn't be around Tony. He doesn't know how to convince her otherwise - or even if he should be convincing her otherwise, because maybe she's right.

"What's wrong?" Laura asks. She slides her hand through his hair, brushing a stray curl out of his face. "You look upset."

"It's Peter," Tony mumbles. "He told his aunt he's Spider-Man and now she's mad at me."

Laura pauses, frowning, and wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders. "Wait. Why is she angry at you?"

"Because she thinks I'm a bad influence," Tony says. Wasn't Laura listening at the restaurant? "And now I'm pretty sure she thinks that I led Peter into a life of being a superhero."

"But Peter was Spider-Man way before he met you," Rhodey says.

"Yeah, but I encouraged it."

"Didn't you give him a brand new suit?" Laura says. "And more sophisticated tools?"

"Didn't you upgrade his web shooters?" Rhodey adds. "And give him an A.I. of his very own that works pretty much like your own A.I. does? Not to mention back-up, a communicator so he can actually contact that back-up, and way better access to medical car?"

"Well, yeah. But -"

"But nothing. May Parker should not be blaming you for anything. I'm going to call her," Rhodey decides.

"No!" Tony exclaims. Rhodey's pissed off about Tiberius Stone. The last thing Tony needs is Rhodey taking that anger out on May. That's not going to improve the situation for anyone. If May bans Peter from seeing Tony, Tony doesn't know what he'll do. The thought makes him shudder.

"No," Laura says at the same time. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Well, I'm not letting you talk to her," Rhodey says to Tony. 

"Rhodey, it's my -"

"Don't say it's your responsibility. Even when you were an adult, it wasn't." Rhodey's voice is firm. "All you've ever done since meeting Peter is tried to make his life easier. You were never in a position to force Peter to stop being Spider-Man. All you could do was make sure he was being careful and safe and that's what you did. May should be _thanking_ you, not calling to yell at you. So I don't care what you say, I am _not_ letting you take responsibility for something that isn't your fault."

Tony just stares at him, speechless.

"I'll call her."

"What?" Rhodey says, blinking and looking away from Tony.

Laura plucks Tony's phone out of Tony's hand. "You heard me. I'll call and talk to her. I'm the obvious choice. My husband was a SHIELD agent for years and then a member of the Avengers. I know exactly what it's like to deal with a family member who's putting themselves in that kind of danger. And I know that it's like to want someone to blame." Her smile, when she looks at Tony, is tinged slightly with sorrow.

"Laura, you don't have to do that," Tony says awkwardly.

"I know I don't have to. I want to. I don't get to do very much, but this is one thing I can definitely do." She kisses the top of Tony's head and then gives him a light push. "Now go on. I want you to go have something healthy for breakfast. I heard you have a big night ahead of you."

She walks away before Tony can protest anymore, stepping out onto the balcony. Tony looks at the glass doors for a long moment, wondering if he dares going out there to try and get his phone back. He feels guilty about letting Laura take the brunt of May's reaction, but he also knows from experience how incredibly stubborn Laura Barton can be. Getting his phone back will be no easy task.

“We really shouldn’t let her handle that,” he hints, looking back at Rhodey.

“You’re right, but if you think there’s any way I’m going out there to get your phone back, you’ve got another thought coming,” says Rhodey. “Just let her do it, Tones. C’mere.” He guides Tony into the kitchen and points him into a chair at the table.

Tony sits, but he doesn’t like it. He looks back over his shoulder, but Laura has moved out of sight of the balcony door. He thinks for all of two seconds about asking FRIDAY to pipe the audio of the call into the kitchen, but a sliver of self preservation stops him: Laura will murder them both if she figures out that they’re eavesdropping. And she always knows.

What if May’s reaction is so over the top that Laura decides she’s done with the Avengers altogether and leaves? Tony wouldn’t blame her at this point. The Avengers are the whole reason Laura will be shortly getting a divorce from her husband. Had Clint remained strictly a SHIELD agent, he probably would’ve happily retired and the Barton's would just be another normal farming family.

“Hey,” Rhodey says, putting a bowl of cereal in front of him. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re making that face that means you’re dreaming up worst case scenarios. Stop it.”

Tony sticks his tongue out. “It’s my face and I’ll do whatever I want with it.”

Rhodey just rolls his eyes. “Eat your damn cereal. You don’t want to faint in front of your date later. Peter would have a heart attack.”

In spite of himself, Tony flushes. “It’s not a date,” he says weakly. But the problem is that every time he says it, he believes it a little less. Much as he hates to admit it, he actually does want this to be a date. He wants Peter; it’s just hard to ignore every nerve in his body screaming that it’s a bad idea.

“Tones, listen. We all come with baggage,” Rhodey says. He holds up a hand when Tony goes to interrupt. “No, I mean it. No one, not even Peter, is perfect. Stop thinking that he’s this angelic, saintly figure you’re gonna ruin. We all bring shit into relationships. That’s why they’re all about compromise and figuring out what works for you and your partner.”

“But –”

“No buts. If you don’t want to be with Peter, that’s fine. But if the only reason you’re being so stubborn is because you think you’re not worthy or some bullshit like that, I want it to stop.”

Tony pauses, momentarily caught out, before trying again. “I never even thought of him this way until I got de-aged,” he says, frustrated. “Doesn’t that mean it’s weird? I’ve like… imprinted on Peter in some way?”

Rhodey laughs. “Oh god. Peter is _exactly_ your type, are you kidding me? He’s smart, attractive, protective and crazy about you. Of course you didn’t think of him that way before. But your brain is different now. You’re looking at the world and everyone in it differently. That’s okay. It’s not bad, and by extension _you_ aren’t bad either.”

“I don’t know if Peter wants –”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. I can say with certainty that he does.”

“Rhodey.”

“He makes puppy eyes at you! I swear to god.”

Tony squints at him, trying to see if he’s serious. “Really?”

“Yes really. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. It’s disgustingly cute.” Rhodey shakes his head. “He really likes you, Tony. I’m not just saying that. I really, truly think you should give him a chance. You might actually make yourself happy.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“But I haven’t dated anyone for a long time,” Tony says in a small voice. “I can’t exactly get drunk and then bring Peter home with me.” He feels hot just thinking about it, some weird combination of embarrassment and lust and anxiety twisting up his stomach. He hasn’t had sex in years. Certainly not since he got de-aged. It’s like he’s a virgin all over again – literally, since the first time around he lost his virginity at age seventeen.

Rhodey’s smile is warm and affectionate. “Aw, pre-date jitters. Pepper’s already hooked you up with the gala. You go, you make some small talk, you dance. You eat. You have fun. You remember having fun on dates, right?”

“Kind of,” Tony says after a pause. He wasn’t kidding when he said he hadn’t dated anyone for a long time. If you don’t count Pepper, it’s been… shit, probably close to six or seven years. “What if I make a fool of myself? What if I do something wrong and Peter realizes how weird this is and starts thinking I’m a pervert and –”

“Hey. Both of you keep your pants on and hands above the waist and you’ll be fine,” Rhodey says, patting his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Peter knows you’re nowhere near ready for that. He won’t take advantage of you.”

“… What if _I_ take advantage of _him_?”

“I can’t think of anything less likely to happen,” Rhodey replies. “Literally, I can’t. You’d end up de-aged again before that happened. Peter’s gonna have his work cut out for him just getting a goodnight kiss.”

Tony squeaks. “K-kiss?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


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